Silent Knights
by S.M.Shoka
Summary: On holiday nights, no one is more willing to open their home to fellow superheroes than Superman. Everyone has had his mother's special apple pie and his father's famous beef soup for Christmas except for a certain Dark Knight. This time around, the Man of Steel is more than determined to get his begrudging friend in the holiday spirit. A collection of holiday drabbles.
1. Season's Greetings

_**A/N:** I really have no idea where this came from but I just thought it would be a fun piece showing the friendship between Batman and Superman. There's so little of it out there! This may turn into a series of one-shots depending on any inspiration and feedback/views..._

* * *

Clark sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. At first, he thought he had won the battle – all the blood, sweat, and tears he poured into this – but now it seemed that there was another sneak attack.

He reached out his hand like he used to do as a child when he would find frightened, injured animals. "C'maaawn. We've made it this far."

Bruce stood rooted to ground a few feet from the steps of the front porch. Hands in the pockets of his long trench coat and sunglasses perched upon his head, he simply frowned. "I'm not a child, _Kent._ "

"Well, hate to break it to you but you're acting like one."

He narrowed his eyes.

Darn it. Clark knew he was losing him. And they were _so_ close, too. It took him weeks to persuade Bruce to finally take a break from monitor duty during the holidays and even more convincing to get him to actually _come_ to his house for Christmas with his parents. Clark had known Bruce for years and understood that he could be resilient but, jeez, did he put up a good fight. He couldn't even count how many excuses the billionaire made up – patrol duty, Gotham needs me, Alfred would be lonely, who would look after Tim, Commissioner Gordon needed extra backup – but finally, _finally_ , they were here.

Almost.

"Bruce." Clark spun around and took a few steps down the porch. "It'll only be for a few hours. I wouldn't put you through anything I know you couldn't handle or anything. Right?"

He wasn't even sure Bruce was entirely listening. Clark noticed the man's calculating blue eyes taking in the chipped wood of the house and rusted roof panels. God only knew what he was thinking. Cows mooed in the distance and the Christmas lights glowed against Bruce's face, creating strange shadows. And while Clark was immensely annoyed at how Bruce was acting, weirder and grumpier than usual, he actually felt bad. He could sense the acceleration of Bruce's heart and noticed the rigidness of his stance. Bruce was _nervous._

"Ma makes the best apple pie." He placed his hand over his heart. "Scout's honor."

Bruce's mouth twitched but suddenly the front door swung open.

"Well, goodness, how long are you two just going to stand there? It's freezing! Come in, come in." Mrs. Kent gestured the two inside with a kind smile but clucked her tongue in chastisement anyway.

Clark dusted his shoes on the mat before stepping inside the warm house. "Sorry, Ma. We were just admiring the lights. Pa did a good job without me this year, huh?"

"Please." Mrs. Kent pulled Bruce's arm as he meandered inside, clearly reluctant. "You're still a terrible liar, Clark, honey. Could never pull one over me."

He chuckled. "No, m'am."

Mrs. Kent stepped back and gave Bruce a once over. She wore a thick Christmas sweater with an apron and high-waisted Mom jeans. The house echoed Mrs. Kent's taste in every nook and cranny: miniature wooden animals perched anywhere with a flat surface, crocheted rugs and afghans, dainty wallpaper, and lots of old potpourri. Bruce dark clothing was a stark contrast.

"As for you…" she wiped her hands on the apron, "well don't just stand there. Aren't you going to give me a proper hug?"

Bruce's eyes flicked to Clark's for a brief moment. "Uh…"

"Come now, come now. No need to be a stranger!"

Clark had to stifle a laugh but it was truly a sight to see Bruce Wayne hugged by an older woman whose head came up to his chest. He wasn't even entirely sure what to do with his hands so they remained limp at his sides as Mrs. Kent gave him a squeeze, quickly rocking him from side to side. Clark thought he looked like a rag doll.

She patted his back a few times and finally let to go (to Bruce's relief).

"Ah, the man of the hour!" Mr. Kent emerged from the dimly lit hallway in an oversized plaid shirt and jeans. He shook Bruce's hand. "Clark's told us so much about you."

Bruce nodded. "Oh. It's a pleasure to meet you…both. As well. Thank you."

"Well, the food's almost done. I'm just finishing up _my_ special beef soup." Mr. Kent grinned, eyes darting side to side for approval, which Clark gave with a gentle pat on the back.

" _I_ love your special soup, Pa."

"You'll be asking for seconds!"

"Dear, microwaving canned soup and then adding a pinch of garlic salt _isn't_ special." Mrs. Kent sighed but quickly turned her attention back to her son. "Why don't you give Bruce a proper tour and we'll call you boys down when everyone else is here."

Clark coughed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, as Bruce flinched.

" _Every" –_

"Here, Bruce, I'll show you the upstairs," the words spilled out of his mouth as the reporter basically ran up the stairs without a second glance.

Mr. Kent dawdled only for a moment before heading back to the kitchen while his wife stayed put, inspecting Bruce with a perceptive _motherly_ look. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence (at least for him) she finally spoke.

"He didn't tell you, dear, did he?"

Bruce forced a chuckle. It came out more as a strained hiccup. "Thank you for inviting me to your home. It's…nice?"

Her eyes softened and she really couldn't help but give him another hug. Clearly, he didn't like being touched (it was like hugging a block of ice) but it wasn't every day that a billionaire-masked-crime-fighter showed up at your house and bumbled like a shy school girl.

"Make yourself at home, hon."

"Of course. I mean, yes, thank you."

He headed up the steps but paused when Clark's mother called his name.

"Don't be too upset with him, honey." Mrs. Kent wiped her glasses. "He just really wanted you to come."

She left before he could answer – probably with another incoherent response – and joined her husband in the kitchen. Bruce's eyes wandered as he made his way up the rickety steps, observing the old carpet and family photos aligning the wall. It was vastly different from the large painted portraits of the Wayne family tree they had back in the manor. He stopped by the railing and leaned forward, peering into an old photo of Clark's fifth grade class. It was easy to spot the dark-haired kid with a goofy grin placing bunny ears on his classmate.

If Bruce normally laughed, he would have had that moment. Clark always had to be _so_ corny.

"You can stop hiding, Kent," Bruce said not turning around. "This is a pretty small house."

"It's not _that_ small." Clark emerged from a room. He had changed into more comfortable clothes: an old baseball t-shirt and sweatpants. It was always strange to see Superman, or _Clark Kent,_ dressed so casually. "I mean, I grew up here and I'm pretty big."

"And an asshole."

"C'mon, I didn't" –

"Bring me here under false pretenses?"

"Look," Clark sighed. He was sure he was slowly developing a headache. "We normally have just dinner between us but this year Aunt Kathy got a divorce and she, well, she wanted to…with the kids…" He shook his head. "If you want to leave, I understand. I just thought it'd be better than monitor duty."

Clark often thought that sometimes his relationship with Bruce was like befriending a wild animal: one second they're relatively calm and kind, and then the next they're tearing at your arm. The members of the League, particularly Wally, often joked saying the only person Batman tolerated was Superman. He never understood _why_ exactly. It wasn't as if he had put a gun to Bruce's head and forced him into whatever standing they were in now. But it spoke volumes that Bruce was actually here at his house. He met his parents. He wasn't the brooding, sarcastic jerk the entire time.

Bruce finally faced him, a small frown toying at the corner of his mouth.

But he was _trying._

"Well? Aren't you going to give me a grand tour of this not-small-house?"

* * *

"You done look really familiar though. Y'sure we haven't met?" Aunt Kathy's eyes bored into Bruce's.

They were all seated at the round dining table. The warm scent of mashed potatoes, roast beef, apple pie, biscuits, buttered vegetables, and soup wafted in the air while Christmas tunes softly rang in the background from an old radio. Bruce was used to a healthy diet – nothing too high in sodium, sugar, or calories – so he was out of his element. Then again, he had been out of his element for the past ninety-two minutes. He was itching to leave but one glance at Clark's dopey smile made him inwardly groan. This man.

"I'm sure I would have remembered you," Bruce said, trying not to grit his teeth in annoyance. Although he must've failed because Clark elbowed him in the ribs.

However, coming from Superman, it was like a blow to the ribcage.

Bruce gasped, coughing up his water, as Clark talked over him like it was nothing. "I guess he just has one of those faces, Aunt Kathy. More soup?"

Clark had barely seen Aunt Kathy since he was a teenager. His father's younger sister was the type who flitted in and out of people's lives like a dream. But somehow her two kids had managed to stay unaffected: they were your typical uninterested, cynical teenagers. The young boy, Max, fiddled with his cellphone as his sister, Piper, stared unabashed at Bruce.

"So," Mr. Kent balled up a napkin, "Clark tells me that you're into chess?"

"I play it in my spare time."

"And what _else_ do you do in your spare time, Mr. Wayne?" Piper batted her lashes.

Bruce's eyebrows were going to become permanently raised on his forehead if he didn't leave the Kents' soon. "Come again?"

Clark cleared his throat.

"Goodness there's barely anything on your plate!" Mrs. Kent piled a load of potatoes in front of the billionaire, all the while clucking her tongue. "It's a wonder you're not all skin and bones."

Clark nudged his friend's elbow. "Bruce is pretty good at chess, Pa. I mean I can handle myself pretty well but he can be crafty."

"We can play a game after the ladies clear up the table?" Mr. Kent leaned back in his chair. "My treat."

"I call Bruce's team!"

Clark sighed. "There aren't any _teams,_ Piper."

She stuck out her tongue.

"Better use that tongue to finish your food." Aunt Kathy prodded her daughter with a fork. "'Nough flirting."

" _Mom."_

"More corn, Pa?" Clark passed the bowl to his father, nudging Bruce in the process as he gave him a sympathetic crooked smile. "Pass me the butter, too."

The billionaire slowly ate his food, glancing from time to time to watch the spectacle before him. Clark made sure to include him in the bits of drifting conversations – "Bruce likes that, too!" or "he has something just like that." It was odd. Sure, Bruce should have been used to Clark doing the talking for him – he knew members of the League normally went to the Man in Blue if they had a question about his unorthodox methods of obtaining information and justice. But without Bruce's cowl on or Clark's cape, it was simply a friend trying to include his antisocial friend into his normal life.

Bruce set back down his cup at the thought. _Friends._ The more he thought about it…it didn't sound _too_ bad.

"Ready for that game of chess?" Mr. Kent stretched in his seat, a grin toying at his mouth.

"I can help with that, Ma," Clark said, pushing back his chair and grabbing the dishes from his mother's hands. "Bruce, I can meet you guys in the den in a few minutes."

"Actually, I think I should be going. I have a few things that I need to take care of back in Go – home. It's been a pleasure." He made sure to avoid looking at Clark. The last thing he needed was Clark's Letdown Face.

" _What?"_

"Oh, so soon! Y'sure?"

"You're always welcomed here, son."

Piper tried not to look too upset as Clark silently walked Bruce to the door but her pout was an obvious giveaway.

"And how exactly are you planning on getting back?" Clark hissed.

"Don't worry about it."

"Wait one minute, honey." Mrs. Kent emerged cradling wrapped plastic bowls in her arms. "Wouldn't want you to leave empty handed."

Bruce blinked. "Oh. I…"

"Now, they're all labeled, but they're pretty hot so be careful." Mrs. Kent smiled as she placed everything into Bruce's hands. "It was a real treat having you here. Don't be a stranger!"

Clark tried to remain cheery and optimistic for the sake of politeness in front of his mother but inside he was nothing but. Sure, Bruce had actually stayed for the entire dinner, and he did make some small talk but…

"Stop sulking. It's unbecoming."

He had walked Bruce out to the front porch and for a while the two didn't say anything. It was silent – the snow blanketing the night encompassed the winter tranquility of it all. Clark should count his blessings but he couldn't help but be somewhat disappointed. It wasn't like he was asking for much.

"I'm not sulking."

He snorted. "You're almost as bad as Piper."

"Oh, yeesh." Clark winced. "I'm truly sorry about that. If it makes you feel better, we were all uncomfortable."

Bruce shook his head and stared at the night sky. "Other than that…this wasn't horrible. The whole Christmas dinner thing."

"We should make it a tradition. Once every four years?"

"Deal."

"So," Clark smirked and folded his arms, "if I just turn around or close my eyes, are you going to pull that Batman vanishing act on me? You said you didn't need a ride."

Bruce took a few steps down the porch. "Like I said, don't worry about it."

"Sure." He leaned against the railing. "You know I'm going to double check on you in, like, ten minutes to make sure you're okay."

"It's inevitable."

"Good." Clark headed back inside not before glancing behind him once more. Unsurprisingly, he couldn't see the billionaire in the winter darkness anymore. "Merry Christmas, Bruce."


	2. Bittersweet

_**A/N:** Thanks for all the adds and follows! Feel free to leave any comments or thoughts *nudge nudge*_

* * *

"I think we're all good here, J'onn," said Superman as he adjusted his comlink. The cool autumn wind rustled his crimson cape in the wind as he and his colleagues quietly stood in the dark street.

"If there are no signs of any problems," the martian's deep reverberated in his ears, "I can beam you up in T-minus 20 seco" -

Batman tilted his head. "That won't be an issue. I'll stay behind and check the perimeter."

"Of course you will." Zatanna placed her hands on her hips and clucked her tongue. "Crime never sleeps."

The magician wasn't a permanent member of the League, but her powers had been needed that night due to Circe and her mischievous tricks. Then again it was Halloween and tricks seemed to be the only thing that mattered that night. That and cheap store candy. Superman repressed a sigh. True, she _had_ been helpful but the tension and trivial bickering between her and Batman almost made him want to beam _himself_ up halfway during the mission.

"Any objections?" Martian Manhunter began setting the coordinates from the Watchtower.

Superman shrugged. "I don't mind accompanying Batman." He ignored the Caped Crusador's snarl and turned around. "See if there's any continuing action. Hopefully it'll be a quiet night. Want me to snag you some chocolate?"

The smile in the martian's voice was evident. "It would be of no use. I am sure Flash will consume it in its entirety. Zatanna, I presume you are ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. Superman." She tipped her top hat but merely glanced at Batman, eyebrow raised challengingly, before a soft glow surrounded her and her body slowly blurred away.

Superman blew his curl out of his face. "Whelp that was fun."

"I'll take Addison. You can monitor Belmont." And with a swish of his cape, Batman stalked down the dimly lit street. The Man of Steel rolled his but went the opposite direction anyways. Sometimes he realized that there was no use in arguing with Batman. Either he was in a bad mood or a worse mood. It had been a long night as the three earlier had to catch magically transformed animals and switch them back to children. Circe had thought it would be funny to transform any costume resembling an animal into the _actual_ thing. Needless to say there had been some sightings of wandering lions and bears that the police thought were questionable.

Superman hovered in the sky, a small grin toying at his mouth as he watched the remaining trick-or-treaters meandering down the streets. The cops that were on call rested at a nearby diner as a few parents lingered on porches sipping hot chocolate. He pressed his earpiece. "All quiet on the western front."

There was a soft crackle. "Funny."

"I can tell you're struggling not to laugh."

"More like gag. There seems to be some activity a few blocks down. Probably just some punk teens."

He swooped down near a cul-de-sac. "Going to go deliver some justice with a side of respect?"

But static was all that answered.

Normally, Superman would be somewhat peeved by Batman's nonresponses but Halloween always had the effect of getting the farm boy in a good mood. He remembered Pa helping him as a boy dressing up – sheets for a ghost or face paint for a zombie – and competing with his friend to see who could get the most candy. He flew a few blocks down the street making sure to avoid any watchful eyes. The Kryptonian chuckled as he saw two little superboys run past a house, large pillow cases spilling some candy in each arm. They even got his signature curly-q right!

"Question," he said into his earpiece, "how many Supermans do you think are out there versus Batmans?"

He assumed to be met with silence – he had long grown used to Batman's one-worded responses or, well, lack of response – but raised his eyebrows when the detective actually answered.

"Seems to be a ratio 2:1 with you being ahead. Silly."

"Oh?" he hovered a few inches.

"You would think that they would try to go for the menacing look."

Superman laughed. "Well, apparently boy scouts are all the rage now. What did you dress up as during Halloween?"

"Hmph. I'm heading over to Fullerton."

But his nonresponse was enough of an answer. The Man of Steel frowned. "Don't tell me you never dressed up for Halloween?"

Superman groaned at the silence that winded up answering him instead. It was like communicating with a brick wall. "You're crazy."

"It's been said before." There was some ruffling. "I don't really see how" -

If Batman was startled at Superman's swift-like appearance, he didn't let it show. He merely paused before continuing his monitoring on the east end of Fullerton, blending in with the shadows cast by local post office buildings and small banks. Soft chatter and laughter echoed from the nearby subdivision, causing Superman to cross his arms.

"Candy, Batman. _Sugar_." He shook his head. "What kind of childhood did you have?"

And the second the words escaped his lips, Superman cringed. It was a pretty stupid question to ask Batman, of all people, about his childhood. However, his colleague simply paused.

"The fact that you're trying to debate with me about dress-up is even more absurd than my apparent candy-lacking childhood."

Superman knew that if he were anyone else, Batman would have released the signature Bat-Glare or an insulting comment before slipping off into the night in silence. Yet, he was still there, tolerating the Man in Blue as he surveyed the neighborhood. Maybe years earlier Batman would have left but it was evident how things had changed that much.

He placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the sudden tensing of muscle. "We'll have to fix that."

A gust of wind rustled Batman's cape as Superman sped off to the nearby subdivision where there were still a couple of trick-or-treaters left. It was the type of night where Superman could walk in the open without anyone questioning him or staring at him in awe. Halloween nights like this almost made him feel normal with everyone else surrounding him dressed as dinosaurs or monsters. It _had_ been a while since he last trick-or-treated but his costume was pretty believable.

Superman rang the doorbell of a white picket fenced house. The door swung open, revealing an elderly woman leaning on a crane for support with one hand and the other cradling a nearly empty bowl of wrapped caramel candy.

"Goodness!" she cried. "If it weren't for my glasses, I'd say that you were the real deal!"

Superman laughed. "I get that a lot. I'm part of the neighborhood watch – a street over – and was just checking to see if everything here was all right."

"Besides the strangest gossip that there were wild animals roaming the parking lot of Sal's Groceries, everything seems to be in shape."

"Glad to hear it." He shuffled a few steps down but didn't have to turn around to sense that Batman was nearby. Superman could always detect his presence from a mile away. "Well, you have a good eve" –

The woman extended the bowl out before her. "Why, I can't let you leave empty handed. I insist!"

"I'd say I'm a little too old…"

"Nonsense! The least I could do."

Superman gave another wave as he walked past her lawn and unwrapped one of the pieces of candy he clutched in his hand. He paused by the bushes, taking a moment to suck on the sugary substance before Batman emerged.

"You're really going to go through with this, aren't you."

"F'is sh'andy!"

Batman blinked and wiped the lone drop of spit that flew onto the edge of his cowl. "And you're an adult."

"You may be a brooding caped crusader, but I _know_ you want some." He shrugged and looked to the side. "You don't have to stop being a kid forever."

Batman snorted but didn't say anything as he watched Superman approach the next house, a good-natured smile already plastered onto the boy scout's lips. In fact, he remained silent the whole time as the Kryptonian continued his polite version of trick-or-treating. Maybe it meant something that he followed him regardless of whether or not he agreed. Maybe it meant something when he finally accepted the fourth piece of candy – a peanut butter cup – that Superman offered him. And maybe it meant something when Batman walked up the steps with him on the fifth house, arms crossed and lips pursed in an obvious attempt to radiate displeasure. But Superman knew otherwise.

"This is ridiculous."

Superman grinned and nudged his colleague's stiff arm. "Sure, it's ridiculous. But ridiculously _fun,_ too."

* * *

"GL's going to laugh."

"Tastes like shit though."

Superman chuckled and licked the green hard candy ring once more before making a face. "Flash'll probably eat it all anyway. Ready to leave? I haven't seen any wild animal sightings in a while now."

The two superheroes nibbled on the few pieces of candy they had tucked under their arms. Superman had suggested earlier that they hide them in Batman's utility belt before being responded with a grunt and cold shoulder. They had gone to two more houses, and all the while Superman kept his smile in check as he watched the Caped Crusader in his peripheral vision. There was no way that anyone in the League would believe that he got Batman, the Dark Knight, to go trick-or-treating with him on Halloween.

"Probably for the best. I…I don't think Zatanna would _want_ to come back regardless."

Superman nodded, trying not to look surprised at the sudden reveal, and fiddled with his comlink. "You two were seeing each other?"

"Not exactly."

The crickets chirped softly in the night, the streets deserted. Halloween had officially ended almost an hour ago as the children and rowdy teenagers headed back home, tucked into bed. Superman glanced up at the stars and squinted. He knew the flickering one in the distance was the Watchtower and wondered how long they could avoid going up to give their report.

While Batman had the reputation of being an intimidating loner, Superman realized that Gotham's Knight couldn't quite repress that playboy quality of his. He never said anything about it - always remaining silent while the other superheros would talk about him and his penchant for having a "thing" with any of the other female heroes or villains. Superman never knew exactly what to say so he opted to stay out of it. It was his life. But now with Wonder Woman expressing some interest...he frowned. Batman was a friend (of some sort) but the guy needed a warning sign.

"I'm sure she'll get over it."

"I'm not worried."

"Never said you were." Superman crumpled a wrapper. "But how about you?"

He waited for a bit before contacting J'onn, signaling that their mission was complete. And if it wasn't for his super hearing, he was sure he would have missed Batman's soft response when the glowing beam surrounded them.

"Candy has the effect of making everything better."


	3. Many Wishes

_**A/N: Whew, so many adds! Sorry for the wait but it's much longer than the last. Leave a comment!**_

* * *

Hawkgirl snorted. "Are you serious? Wait, you're really serious, aren't you?"

"Well, I don't know…" the Flash scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not sure he really likes me."

"I don't like him," said Green Lantern, without missing a beat.

"I apologize." Martian Manhunter stared, eyes large and unblinking. "But I believe that this may be a bad idea, leading to catastrophic proportions."

Wonder Woman tilted her head in curiosity. "I don't mind. I think it's a fascinating idea. A _birthday card,_ you call it?"

And through it all Superman merely nodded, a soft and understanding smile curling his lips, as he approached his colleagues one by one as discreetly as possible aboard the Watchtower. He knew it would be difficult getting them to soften at the idea but it was actually interesting hearing all of their excuses. Impressive really. They were ridiculously honest with him, which _was_ helpful, but, in fact, a bit discouraging, too.

"Well…" Superman had paused, racking his mind as he had stood across from Flash in the break room, "I think _hate_ is a pretty strong word."

"Tell me about it." The Man of Steel had nodded in understanding as Hawkgirl barely even took a breath while she went on her rant, listing off reasons how terrible it was to work with such a "brooding asshole" who apparently has never heard of the saying "there is no I in team."

After a few hours, Superman sighed and resigned himself. He stood in one of the halls, facing the large window view of space. On slow nights like these, the Kryptonian would normally come out to simply gaze at the planets and stars – the dark canvas blanketing the universe as celestial matters twinkled in the distance. However, its affects weren't boosting his confidence this time. Batman had always been a difficult person to work with but after being with the Justice League after so many years, Superman thought by now they had all learned to accept him. He snorted. Apparently not. The thing of it was, he was more agitated at the Caped Crusader than the JL members. If he wasn't such a loner, a manipulative control freak that had to be a perfectionist at _everything_ he did even if he hurt someone else in the process –

Superman shook his head. It was always easy to think that Clark Kent, the gentle "farm boy" basically liked everyone due to being a simple-minded fella who grew up saving animals and helping farmer Joe on the field or something. But, contrary to popular belief, the Smallville man _didn't_ like everyone he met. He didn't like his boss, Perry, and didn't care much for that mailman that kept giving him his neighbor's mail. But, he was just polite and a brilliant actor at not showing it. Years of controlling his powers at a young age taught him a thing or two about pacifism. So, how did this happen? Batman was the definition of a grade-A jerk that Superman normally would avoid.

"Could you look anymore pathetic."

The Kryptonian suppressed a jump. Sighing, he remained fixed towards the window, staring at the reflection as Batman emerged behind from the darkness. "I thought we agreed that you'd at least clear your throat or, I don't know, tap my shoulder to signal your appearance?"

Batman merely glared, his white eye slits unblinking.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Hasn't been much activity for a few hours. Couple of red dots on the eastern side but local police have been handling it."

"Won't be for long." Batman shifted and stood next Superman, surveying the view. "Nothing on the Georgia case then."

The alien shook his head. "GL's found a glitch in their story. Thinks there more to the case than what we've heard so far. He'll be canvassing it with Hawkgirl."

Batman didn't respond, just cocked his head, causing Superman to chuckle. "I have faith in them. I'm sure they'll get _something_ done."

He scoffed but didn't say anything. The pair remained quiet as they watched the stars, a comfortable silence settling between them. In the distance, the Flash was whistling an annoying pop tune while Martian Manhunter phased through cabinets, searching for any forms of chocolate. Hawkgirl was upstairs, roaring as she went through her third simulator and Wonder Woman watched the news with Green Lantern in another room.

"Here."

Something nudged his elbow and Superman glanced with a raised eyebrow. Batman produced a metal coffee canister, the steam still wafting, and poked him with it again.

"Alfred made extra."

"Oh," Superman clutched the canister and took a quick sip of the warm substance, trying not to laugh in the process. It was something the other Robins would say about their mentor – whenever he wanted to do something nice or show that he cared in any form, Bruce would simply tack Alfred's name on it.

 _"_ _Dick, Alfred wants to know if you're coming home for Christmas."_

 _"_ _Alfred noticed that you've been upset lately."_

 _"_ _Well, Alfred cares about you, Tim."_

"Thanks." Superman wiped his mouth. "Haven't seen him a while. He's doing okay?"

If Batman was actually going to respond, his words would be a mystery, because the alert system went off throughout the Tower, signaling a code orange. Superman cringed but took another quick slurp. "So much for the slow night. Tell Flash he owes me five bucks."

But, an idea suddenly sparked his thoughts. He was a member of the Justice League and could handle any international conflict. All he had to do was approach the situation as a code blue: birthday card operation. Batman slipped further down the hall but stopped momentarily, his cape flowing gently. The Kryptonian took one more sip, relishing the warmth, and followed. Superman was an expert at peace management – either way, he'd get the League members to sign that Hallmark card.

* * *

 _"_ _Alfred wants to know if you have any plans this weekend."_

 _Clark raised an eyebrow and stared at the phone. "Bruce?"_

 _The Daily Planet was alive and bustling that Wednesday afternoon. There had been an animal escape at the zoo a few hours ago and Lois was already in the field, working the story with a few other lackeys. Clark remained at his desk, fiddling with a story from last week that he had yet to finish. Back to school articles were tremendously dull. Now this phone call seemed to be another distraction._

 _"_ _Damn it…wait." There was rustling and shuffling on the other end, causing Clark to groan._

 _"_ _Seriously? Not even a hello or how are you" –_

 _"_ _Dickie, you're giving me a headache. You know what I said about this. I'm talking to him right now so" –_

 _"_ _Hi, Uncle Clark!"_

 _Clark pulled the phone from his ear at the sudden cry, laughing as he did so. Dick was already twelve – well past the age of calling him "Uncle" anything yet the child was always excited whenever he was near, either in his reporter or superhero form._

 _"_ _How's it going, kiddo?"_

 _"_ _So are you coming to the manor this weekend? Alfred says he'll make your favorite pie for your birthday and it'll be really cool because I'll be there and I was thinking probably that – wait I'm not done yet! I didn't even" - -_

 _More rustling and after a few moments Clark was tempted to put them on hold. Finally, Bruce's less than enthusiastic voice rustled on the other end. "Well?"_

 _Clark frowned. "Is this an invitation or…"_

 _"_ _Put two and two together, Kent. Busy or not."_

 _"_ _With Pa back from surgery, I wasn't sure if they were planning anything or not..." He glanced at his calendar and bit his lip. Everyone had made excuses - Lois was going to do a story in Montana, Lana was sick and Jimmy...hmm, well he wasn't that desperate yet. "But, nope. Think I'm pretty much free."_

 _Bruce scoffed as if he had just lost a battle. "Fine. This Saturday afternoon. I'll have the jet pick you up."_

 _"_ _What? No, you don't have to" –_

 _"_ _It's done."_

* * *

"I'm Velma Jettson reporting for CBS News live. Moments ago, two tornadoes touched down completely destroying everything in their path." The reporter gestured behind her as the wind whipped her blonde hair back and forth. "Firefighters have been short staffed but it seems like the Justice League is paying a visit."

"If it's all clear, take some time to help a brother out with the cleaning crew." Green Lantern cradled his hand as his ring created a large glowing shovel. His comlink crackled. "This is going to take forever. Superman?"

"Hey, Lantern." The Man of Steel hovered nearby and gave a small wave. "Busy?"

He blinked and glanced at the frantic firemen below him. "…Yes?"

"Whelp, this'll only take a second," he said as he pulled out the crumpled card from behind his cape. If only he had a utility belt…

Lantern's eyes widened. "Cl – I mean, Superman…I thought we already went over this" -

"Hey!" a firefighter from below shouted. "A little less talking and a whole more not-almost-dropping-shit on people!"

"Shit! I mean _Judas Priest."_ Green Lantern adjusted his ring, frowning. "I mean…Goddamn, just give me a second. I'll sign the stupid thing."

Minutes later, with a low _woosh,_ Superman flew in the air in search for his next target. He swiftly landed near Hawkgirl, who was using her mace to smash the fallen trees. The alien frowned and cleared his throat.

"Is that even helping?"

"What?" she blew an escaped strand of hair out of her face. "Small pieces, duh. It'll be easier for them to carry."

Superman opened his mouth but closed it, deciding it was best not to argue. "Uh-huh. Say do you mind signing this real quick? It'll only take a second."

"What? Superman, seriously, during a mission? I said I wasn't interested" –

"It'll only take a second! Then you can go back to destroying or helping or whatever it is that you're doing."

The Thanagarian snarled but realized she had no excuses this time. They were in a contained environment with news reporters about – it'd look bad if they were caught arguing. She could only imagine the headlines. "Clever, Son of Kyrpton."

He simply grinned once she yanked the pen he had been waving in her face and scribbled something down as she pressed the card against her knee for a hard surface.

"Now go bother someone else."

"Will do."

* * *

 _"_ _You really outdid yourself, Alfred, really."_

 _"_ _The pleasure is all mine. Please, allow yourself. Master Greyson, what did I say about being a polite host?"_

 _The child groaned and sat back in his chair, arms crossed. "Guests are allowed the first bite."_

 _"_ _Precisely."_

 _The dining room of the Wayne Manor was rarely used. Alfred had been up all night the day before, shimmying the feather duster on the large mahogany table and fireplace mantle. The chandelier was given a good spritz and the antique chairs' pillows were patted down. It wasn't every day that they entertained guests that weren't after Master Bruce's money…or simply after Master Bruce._

 _"_ _But, can't I have just a little" –_

 _"_ _Richard." Bruce tilted the newspaper, blue eyes narrowed at his ward, who merely gulped._

 _"_ _Fine." He sighed. "But Alfred says there's no reading at the table so ha!"_

 _"_ _That is correct, Master Bruce," said Alfred as he cut another slice of lemon meringue cake. "Gotham's weekend crime updates can wait for a few more hours."_

 _The usually silent manor was filled with soft chatter, for the moment being, as forks scraped plates filled with fluffy cake, glazed fruit, deviled eggs, and stuffed mushrooms. And while Clark was never hungry due to his Kryptonian genetics, he scarfed down entirely everything, the taste buzzing on his tongue._

 _Bruce rolled his eyes. "You've got chocolate on your face, Kent."_

* * *

After cornering and pestering the rest of the members as they were busy with firefighters, police, and, overall being responsible JLA members, Superman smiled to himself as he entered the computer room. The card was a colorful mess of scribbled names and, sure, there were some smudges and the corner was bent, but, it was something. At least he hoped so.

Batman sat in front of the computer, fingers flying away on the keyboard as articles popped up on the flashing screen before him. He barely flinched as Superman took the empty desk chair next to him, nor did he tilt his head in curiosity as the Kryptonian produced a disheveled card to him.

"I thought," he said, eyes never blinking, "that we agreed that you wouldn't do anything stupid."

Superman shrugged. " _You_ may have, but I didn't."

"It's just a number."

"A magic number."

"You're being ridiculous."

"All the more reason for you to just open the thing already cause I'm not going to stop. C'mon, get it over with."

After an agonizing wait for all of sixty seconds, the detective cracked his knuckles, cleared his throat, and finally, accepted the card in his gloved hands. At first he remained quiet, his eye slits simply staring at the paper, but a few moments later, he snorted.

"Did you threaten them with a laser beam to the head?"

"Something like that. Hey, it's the thought the counts, right?"

Batman spun back to face the computer and continued typing as the Man of Steel absentmindedly watched the flashing screen. The card remained in the detective's lap and the next few minutes were filled with the soft clacking of keys and the swishing of Superman's chair as he rocked back and forth until Batman cleared his throat.

"Alfred…he wanted to know if you'd be free tomorrow."

Superman shrugged, eyes not leaving the screen. "I might be."


	4. He Who Laughs

_**A/N:** So many adds but very few reviews...let know what you think! Thanks for the views _

* * *

Superman blinked slowly, baby blue eyes trying to focus on the blinking screen before him. "Dang it, Clark, c'mon." He rubbed his eyes and rolled back his shoulders as he attempted to get down to business but once he stared back at the screen, his thoughts would instantly shift.

He groaned.

The Kryptonian knew he was being pathetic, pitiful, lame, and a bunch of other synonymous words. He had an important job of monitoring duty and _should_ be taking it seriously but, well, there was only so much he could do besides checking and updating the status report on the few ongoing missions – two in New York and another in Chicago. Other than that, he was left to his thoughts, his many swarming thoughts, of a certain dark-haired reporter with eyes like...

Superman shook his head. He wished he was somewhere else.

It was a busy day at the Watchtower, full of on and off-duty members roaming about the halls, quarters, and cafeteria. Their voices and laughter drifted past the dim monitor room where Superman sat, dejected, as he glanced at the hallway behind him. While he had requested to work the shift solo, practically begging to Martian Manhunter's confusion, he almost wished there was someone else here to distract him. Sighing once more, Superman turned away from the glass hallway and faced the screen.

"Lantern to – damn, shut up – Superman."

Superman scrambled in his seat and cleared his throat as he raised the volume to the comlink. "Roger?"

"Requesting permission to replace support. I swear, Flash is driving me _crazy_ I just can't."

The Man of Steel smirked. "Doesn't he always?"

"Well, crazier than usual. You know what I mean. Like, arggh, damn it, Flash, so help me I will…"

Their banter wasn't enough to lighten his mood so when Batman emerged into the monitoring room a mere thirty minutes later, he was presented with a visibly crestfallen Superman complete with drooping shoulders and a slight pout.

"J'onn isn't here." Of course Batman never asked questions, instead opting to simply state them matter of factly.

"Hmm?" Superman raised his head and then shrugged as he continued staring at his boots. "Yeah, he's probably somewhere in the pantry or shamthunkshh…"

While the Man of Steel's words were muffled by his hands as he rested his cheek against them, Batman only quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms in response. Of course the World's Greatest Detective detected the obvious sadness emoting from the Kryptonian the second he passed the monitoring room but he wouldn't _be_ the Batman if he actually asked his friend what was wrong. He didn't even acknowledge that Superman was his friend to begin with.

"And that would be…"

The Kryptonian shrugged again. "I requested a single shift. Does it matter?"

He could've easily taken the bait, the obvious attitude seeping into Superman's words and his negative vibe would cause any other JLA member to leave the room and give the man some space. But, Batman could never take Superman seriously, especially when he was in a mood, so he walked over to the nearby seat, slipping off his utility belt as he did so, and sat down.

"Uh…" Superman raised an eyebrow as the masked vigilante began tinkering with the belt, taking out objects from each pouch and inspecting them. "Can I help you with something?"

"I doubt they taught you about advanced technology updating and weaponry at farm school."

The Man of Steel frowned. Honestly, even on a _good_ day he wasn't in the mood for Batman's insults and sarcasm. "Then why don't you go and be a smart-ass somewhere else? You designed the thing. I'm sure there's a brooding quarter nearby."

"Too crowded."

"Isn't that why you have your _own_ cave?"

"Under re-construction."

He almost threw up his hands. Fine. They could both stay in the monitoring room and be miserable together. Even though Superman kind of wanted some company merely as a distraction, Batman wasn't his first choice. Not even top three. The guy was always miserable and wasn't the best option for providing moral support. Superman blew the curl out of his eyes and keyed a few buttons half-heartedly, updating the status report. He was a fool – ironically enough of all days. Clark Kent should have known better that Lois Lane was out of his league and that all of the flower bouquets, chocolates, and stuffed animals in the world wouldn't get her attention. What did his mother say again – Lois was more of a "woman of today"? Well, he was now the man of yesterday. Apparently, polite and kind gentlemen were out of fashion.

He glanced at Batman and suppressed another sigh. It was guys like Bruce Wayne that could get Lois' attention and affection. The next few minutes passed in silence – occasionally typing and sighing from Superman with grunts from Batman. But, suddenly, a flickering red light at the corner of the Kryptonian's eye broke him out of his trance. The small device Batman was working on blinked red again as he clicked the side of it together.

"What're you doing?"

"It's nothing harmful." Batman shook the device and clicked it again. "It emits a low-powered infrared light. I restricted the" –

"You mean a laser?"

"Power source and adjusted the distance and frequency. Not all of us have super vision."

"So, it's a laser pointer then."

Batman paused and stared. "A laser diode. But yes."

"That wasn't so hard now was it?"

The detective scoffed and flicked the light on again, aiming towards the large window that overlooked one of the main hallways. Booster Gold strolled by, carrying a stack of papers in one arm, and skipped when the red light suddenly appeared to the right. He looked around, still walking except with small frown, but the light had already disappeared.

Superman raised his eyebrows and coughed, trying to cover up his chuckle at Booster Gold's reaction. "Um, what exactly are you" –

"Testing."

"Really."

"A trial run. It would be juvenile of me to assume all of my devices work flawlessly. Some of the best inventors know that."

"Hmm. Interesting theory."

The two heroes were angled behind large file cabinets, obstructed, so when Green Arrow and Black Canary came into view and sharply spun around at the flickering red beam, their eyes were unable to land on the culprit. Superman chuckled as Green Arrow began pointing somewhere else, eyebrows furrowed, all the while Black Canary ignored him and continued walking.

Batman tested the laser again as a larger group passed down the hallway – Orion and Vixen listening intently to Wonder Woman, hands gesturing as she spoke. This time the beam reflected off the Amazon Princess' tiara, the light dispersing and shining into Orion's eyes. Superman grinned and adjusted his chair for a better view as he watched Orion shouting and covering his eyes. The other two members gave the demi-god an odd look but glanced around disinterestedly for any threatening signs.

"Surprised she didn't fling out a sword," Superman said, earning a snort from Batman.

More entered the hallway, as it was a busier day than usual, and all the while the Man of Steel chuckled and snorted, grinning ear to ear, as Batman continued to test the laser pointer on various unsuspecting JLA members. Hawkgirl flung her mace down the hall, hitting the exit sign, Zatanna dropped her top hat, and Dove punched Hawk in the arm.

"I know it was you!"

"You're an idiot." Hawk scowled, rubbing his arm as he left. "You know that?"

"Oh, no, wait, wait." Superman pointed to Captain Marvel, who now appeared munching on a candy bar. "Reflect it over there, Bats."

The red light circled on the candy wrapper and the hero instantly dropped the chocolate remnants onto the floor with a soft and prepubescent yelp. Mouth shaped into a perfect _o_ and eyebrows furrowed, Captain Marvel's expression caused the Man of Steel to laugh with his head thrown back. He finally quieted down when Batman turned back his seat and slipped the device back into one of the pouches of his utility belt. After rubbing his cheeks from the soreness of laughter for a few seconds, Superman returned to the blinking monitor screen.

"Test complete then, huh?" But he shook his head as Batman simply folded a pocket in response, never answering. The Kryptonian fiddled with the mouse but almost dropped it when the detective finally spoke.

"I'm assuming Lois either looked at you wrong or didn't laugh at a joke at work today."

Superman opened his mouth, closed it, and cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You should also add improving your lying skills underneath learning about weapons technology."

"I…" he sighed. "She came in with a boyfriend at the office."

The detective took out another object from his belt, signaling Superman to continue.

"I mean, it's her life and it's not like we're even super close or anything but…" he gestured his hands but trailed off, knowing he would sound even more pathetic if he said anything else. And one ever wanted to look like a pathetic excuse of a person in front of Batman.

"They're not going to get married."

"I know. It's stupid really, I know, but" –

"You can't help it."

Superman nodded, surprised at the comment. He was so used to his subtle insults and cynicism. Was he actually witnessing a Sympathetic Batman? "Pretty much."

The detective glared as he fiddled with the belt, but Superman recognized the pondering look in the white slits of the cowl. "Give it time."

It wasn't much – there was much more Batman could have said like quote a philosophical saying, echo the sentiments of a poem, or even offer a personal example – but it was something so little that actually worked. Because, at that moment, he realized that strange laser beam test was another gesture from the Caped Crusader all together. Something that actually caused Superman's shoulders to droop less.

The door swung open, revealing a suspicious Wonder Woman and a visibly disgruntled Green Arrow. The Amazon placed her hands on her hips. "There have been some strange incidents involving a red light only in this particular sector of the Tower." She paused and glanced at Batman who was standing up. "Would you two happen to have any answers for such disruptions?"

"Hmmm…" Superman covered his mouth, trying cover the smile that was tugging at his mouth. "I didn't see anything on the screen."

"Oh, bullshit, you haven't been looking at that thing for the past hour." Green Arrow glared. "Lantern's been calling and says no one's answered."

"Batman?" Wonder Woman tilted her head as the detective walked passed her and slipped on the utility belt.

He opened the door but looked over his shoulder. "April Fools."

Superman didn't try to cover the smile this time.


	5. A Friendsgiving

**A/N:** _I did multiple edits on this one so I hope it turned out alright. Let me know what you think and drop a review!_

* * *

It's a chilly autumn night and the skies of Bludhaven swirl in black and red. Sirens and helicopters buzz in the distance as the streets whoosh with commuters driving back to the safety of their homes. The City's dilapidated buildings loom in the darkness, creating ominous shadows and a dreary landscape. Perched on one of the few towers, Nightwing cocked his head as he surveyed the lower ward. However, for once, he isn't alone.

Superman leaned back on his elbows, munching on a donut. "So, what are your Thanksgiving plans?"

It had been a busy week at the Daily Planet with a new story on a string of burglaries in one of the northern neighborhoods. Lex Luthor was up to something again with his new deal with a corporation and, most importantly, Thanksgiving was coming up in a few days. For the first time he would be on his own in his cramped apartment. Ma and Pa were going to go visit family on the coast and it was about time that Clark be an adult by hosting his own dinner parties: the Ever First Annual Friendsgiving. JL members included. Big steps.

"Oh," Nightwing shrugged, sipping his coffee, "Nothing officially planned. Tim'll be staying over my place for the weekend so I guess I should, I dunno, at least _attempt_ to feed him."

"Well, I'm sure Alfred could take care of that aspect."

"Nah, he'll be out of the country. Visiting friends and family then. It'll be ramen noodles and Chinese take-out for us."

Superman cringed and twiddled his fingers, thinking of which was the best way to approach the unwanted subject. Face it. There _was_ no best way. He knew Bruce really did love Dick and not seeing him for years just because he became his own person was tearing him apart. "But, there's still the manor? I'm sure Bruce wouldn't object…" He sensed the acceleration of Nightwing's heart but continued. "He's no Julia Childs but he could probably afford to order something fancier than shrimp fried rice or wonton soup."

"Well…" The acrobat clenched his jaw but forced an amused smile. "Someone's been a lazy bum and ordered from Chinese Yum-Yum one too many times, yeah?"

"You caught me. But, hey, you used to love that place. You'd always beg for it when you and Jason used to visit."

"Ugh, jeez, Uncle Clark," Nightwing groaned, running a hand through his untamed hair. Just like that, he had reverted into a petulant teenager. "Just gotta throw it all out there, huh?"

Superman gave a small innocent smile and shrugged. In all honesty, he _knew_ why Batman had been avoiding him recently – holiday season was buzzing in the air and he knew the Kryptonian would bring up the subject of his estranged sons and overall dysfunctional family. He'd glare and probably hiss something like "Stay out of it" or use his birth name all like "Drop it, Kal'El" so he would but then later wouldn't. Because, well, he cared about them as if they were his _own_ family. How could he just leave it be?

"Listen," said Superman, "you know what I'm going to say" –

"That Bruce is a complicated person and we all need to try a little harder to understand and even though he may act like an asshole, look like an asshole, talk _and_ dress like an asshole, he _is_ an asshole. But," Nightwing gestured, "we need to love the world's assholes."

"…No. But, I guess, if you want to summarize or put your little spin to it" –

"Look, Uncle Clark. I…It's not like I _haven't_ tried. You _know_ him. You know how he's like." He shook his head and leaned forward on the edge of the building. "Honestly, it's better this way. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

"Dick..." Clearly, he didn't believe it applied in this case but he could spot a losing battle from a mile ahead. He cleared his throat, attempting a different route. "Bruce may be swinging by my dinner with the others. I'm sure he'd love seeing you there."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really."

"Really." It wasn't exactly a lie. "Maybe even bring Jason around."

Nightwing jerked his head, scoffing. "Isn't it called _happy_ Thanksgiving? 'Cause I'm pretty sure the inclusion of Jaybird would oppose that. Strongly."

The Man of Steel's face softened at the old pet name, which clearly slipped from the vigilante's mouth without thought. He remained silent.

"Fine." Nightwing clucked his tongue in defeat and dug out his grappling hook, pointing it to the sky. "But I'm not making any promises."

Shrugging his shoulders, Superman nodded halfheartedly and watched as the young vigilante dove into the night sky, the blue costume dissolving into the dark.

* * *

"Jeez, I didn't know you were also a part time Dr. Phil. Bringing people together under false pretenses since 19" –

"Really, Jimmy?"

Clark groaned as he continued pushing the cart down the frozen food aisle and adjusted the phone tucked in the crook of his neck. He thought it wouldn't be too difficult cooking a dinner – all he had to do was follow the instructions on the back of the boxes, right? It's Basic English and he got an A in grammar back in high school, too. But, getting a call from Jimmy and accidentally spilling the beans hadn't been the brightest of ideas.

He chuckled. "I'm just saying that I hope you know what you're doing.

"Of course I do. I've known this guy for years. Everyone's making this into such a big deal."

"Alrighty-ighty. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Well, besides counting sheep, right?"

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a box of frozen biscuits from one of the freezers. The Metropolis reporter didn't even know what to say anymore – he had the same conversation with Diana…and Wally…and John. And pretty much everyone else in the League was against his idea. While most of the JLA members didn't know too much about Bruce and his family, they could put two and two together: it may turn into an utter catastrophe. He even gave Jimmy the _barest_ of details and the photographer thought he was crazy. Clearly, not everyone believed in miracles.

"I'm ever the optimist, Jimmy," he said, steering his cart to the side as he avoided being hit by another. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. Wait, is there a difference between wax paper and baking paper?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Clark shrugged and yanked both from the shelf, tossing them inside his already full cart. He was going to have to work extra stories for this. After his discussion with Nightwing, he had spoken to Bruce the next day, making sure to call him when he was at work and would be giving him the most minimal of attention. Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised that the billionaire totally forgot about Thanksgiving in the first place.

 _"_ _How," said Bruce amongst the shuffling of papers, "do you keep getting through the lines to my office."_

All he had to do was drop the words _JLA_ and _meeting_ and it was a piece of cake. _Cake._ He should buy some cake.

Jimmy's voice broke Clark out of his thoughts. "Look, all I'm saying is, if I was this fellah with some estranged kids, I wouldn't really see the, uh, _thought_ of surprising me with an unwanted family reunion. It could turn a little Maury. Just sayin'."

"You know what – I don't _have_ to explain myself anymore. I'm an adult." Passing by a table full of loaves of bread, he stopped and tossed a few in. "I pay taxes. I tip cabdrivers. I'm polite and respectful." He inspected two cans of cranberry sauce, narrowing his eyes behind the lenses. "I can do this."

"Yeesh, okay. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Clark snorted.

* * *

He wasn't nervous. He wasn't. Clark Kent had faced angry reporters and photographers. He'd faced the wrath of a blighted Lois Lane and an affronted Perry White. Heck, he was _Superman –_ he had a _gala_ of villains. So, why on Earth could he not stop pacing? He knew if he was fully human he'd be perspiring by now.

Ridiculous.

The oven door squeaked as Clark opened it once more, peering in as the World's Smallest Turkey baked. It was the only one left, tucked in the back of the freezer. He was lucky he had his super vision or else he would have missed it.

"It's just the food," he murmured as he picked at the meat with a wooden spoon. " _That's_ what I'm nervous about."

And, once the first guests arrived, Clark kept repeating this particular mantra in his head.

"Man, it smells good in here!" Wally threw off his jacket as he bounded inside the apartment, John and Shayera close behind. "Gotta tell you, I was a little worried that it was just going to be some awkward family reunion but you're just a surprise all around, Supes."

Gesturing towards the closet, Clark shook his head with a lopsided grin. "Hello to you too, Wally. You guys can leave your stuff in here."

The reporter had made sure to broom and swipe down his apartment for his welcomed guests: his living room was already sparse with one couch and a small end table stacked with old magazines from the Daily Planet. He had placed a few fold out chairs, pushing aside his small fish tank next to the window, where the fish simply stared with mouths wide opened.

"I just hope you know what you're doing," said John as he placed a few bags on Clark's counter, taking out some covered plates and bowls. "But, it ain't my place. Hope you guys like soul food." Uncovering some of the dishes, he revealed a bowl of cornbread and greens. Wally rubbed his hands together in excitement and Shayera laughed, shoving the speedster playfully.

"The kid'll eat anything."

At 2:15, Clark made sure to raise the heater up when Diana came in from the chilly fall weather bundled in a coat and matching hat. The Catalina radio emitted the voice of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, accompanied by trumpets and violins, as the League members chattered over glasses of wine. J'onn arrived around 2:30 with a basket of chocolates and Clark's smile widened at 3 o'clock when Dick and Tim knocked on the door.

"Sorry for our fashionably late arrival," said Dick, unwrapping a loose scarf as he directed for Tim to do the same. "Got a bit lost. Looks like we haven't visited in a while."

Clark quietly shrugged but Tim's eyes wandered around the apartment, filled with a bunch of tipsy unmasked League members and home cooked food. A few waved lazily, gesturing for the boys to take some food and mingle. He hid the book clutched in his hand behind his back. "…I didn't know it was going to be a party."

"I _told_ you to not bring a book."

"You say a lot of things I don't listen to. Why should I bother now?"

"Whelp, I'm right most of the time, dork." Dick winked and ruffled Tim's hair. "Best to listen to the bigger, cooler, more handsome bro" –

The young boy rolled his eyes, already walking towards the food displayed on the kitchenette counter, an inquisitive look etching his features. Grabbing their coats, Clark placed them on a few spare hangers and smiled softly to himself.

"Nothing on Jason?" Clark whispered, loping a coat on a wire hanger. He wasn't exactly surprised but the disappointment laced in between his words was evident.

"Let's just say he sends his regards." He sighed, shoulders drooping, as he ran a hand through his long dark hair. "Nothing…nothing on Bruce?"

Clark glanced at the clock. Bruce always showed up fashionably late but for some reason this tardiness seemed different. He was a detective so it wouldn't be that insane if he already figured out the whole ambush Thanksgiving plan. Regardless, it wouldn't be awful for Clark to finally relax and enjoy himself. So, Jason was a no-show and Bruce was probably solving some mystery in the sewers somewhere but the dinner _was_ good. Dick and Tim were basically absorbed into the group, chuckling and munching on food as the others talked. The Kryptonian was glad – these were his friends. People he'd do anything for and he wouldn't really change anything else.

"My apologies for my lateness," Bruce's deep voice reverberated from the open door and Clark almost jumped. His blue eyes took in the surroundings, briefly pausing on Dick before resting on Clark. "Couldn't find parking."

The music had might as well come to a screeching halt because that's how swiftly the atmosphere changed. Dick stilled and Tim choked up the cookie he was nibbling on. Clark didn't need to tap into his heartbeat to notice the telltale signs of Bruce's anger. Shock. Probably some hurt in there, too.

"Bruce…" Diana sat up, an uncertain smile toying her mouth, and adjusted her sweater. "I didn't think you'd make it."

Wally shook a bag of chips in the air. "The, uh, food's good."

"Wait," Tim stood hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth between his older brother and mentor, "am I forgetting something? Was there a mission or" –

Bruce held up his hand. "It's nothing, Tim. Clark needed some documents that I was merely dropping off." He tossed a folder onto the counter with a loud smack. John exchanged a quick glance with Shayera.

"Maybe," Dick cleared his throat, fidgeting in his chair, "maybe I should leave. I didn't think…"

Clark shook his head. "Bruce, c'mon, don't" –

"Nonsense. I was just leaving." He tilted his head in a quick dismal before flicking a sharp glare at Clark. Turning around, Bruce left as quickly as he had arrived. But, it was a few moments before Shayera coughed and Wally stirred the conversation into a safer, different direction. Something about boom tubes.

"Clark…" Dick said quietly, hands clenched into two tight fists. Cheeks flushed, his blue eyes blinked furiously. "Y-you _said…_ you promised that" –

"Look, Dick," Clark placed a hand on his shoulder and glanced at Tim, "you two mean the world to me. Really. I've known Bruce for a long time and I don't think he wants it to be like this. Trust me okay?"

Their hesitant nods would have to do because he could see through the walls that Bruce was booking it down the hallway, attempting to beat the Man of Steel's super speed. Because when Bruce didn't want to talk about something, he _really_ didn't want to talk.

"Bruce." Clark found him waiting by the elevator, arms crossed, staring at a pointed place above his face. Cold.

" _Kal._ "

Clark opened his mouth but quickly closed it as Bruce simply stared. His _silence._ He truly hated it. He shook his head, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Remember when I brought you to my parents for Christmas last year? You were nervous. Like actually nervous. I know you're human but I just never thought you could get nervous."

Bruce's eyes narrowed but he still hadn't looked at him.

"I said that I would never put you through anything you can't handle. Remember?" Clark paused. "I'll always look out for you, Bruce. You might find it annoying or corny or whatever but I don't care. That's what…it's what brothers just _do._ "

It was quick: a crack in his expression as his eyes zeroed in on the Kryptonian's. Except Clark blinked and the look swiftly disappeared. Bruce's eyes remainedl fixed on his, mouth slightly agape.

The elevator finally dinged opened and Bruce merely glanced at it in utter confusion. He was clearly lost, unprepared, and even though he looked as if he wanted to say something, it was as if he were glued to that spot on the hallway carpet.

So, Clark shrugged, used to his silence, and took a few steps backwards. "I'll leave the door opened if you change your mind." He was halfway down the hallway when he heard the patter of Bruce's Ralph Laurent shoes following and it was a few seconds later when he appeared by his side, face carefully blank. The squeaking of their shoes filled the quietness.

"His hair…" Bruce cleared his throat. "It's longer."

"He's growing it out."

"Ah...he looks skinnier. I know without Alfred…I mean, should I…should I say" –

"He's your son, Bruce." They had reached his door and lingered by the entrance. "I'm sure he'd love it if you said _anything._ "

The billionaire nodded and Clark recognized the calculating look tucked into his furrowed eyebrows. He wore the same look before making a particularly difficult move during a game of chess. "Clark, I…thank you." Bruce glanced at him. "Brothers. I don't think I've been a very good one."

Clark chuckled, nudging his arm before stepping inside. "Yeah, well, let's just say I call top bunk and leave it at that."


	6. Paper Heart

**A/N: Thanks again for all of the adds! I don't believe this is my best work but let me know what you think by dropping a comment :D (Also, I hope you know what movie I'm referencing to at the end. It's actually one of my favorites!)**

* * *

Clark didn't need to tap into his super senses to hear the slap echoing across the ballroom. But, it was the brief silence that followed which was the most deafening.

"Damn," Jimmy muttered, angling his camera, "that gotta hurt."

The reporter cringed and took another sip of his water as he peaked back at Bruce over the rim of the glass cup. His head had actually jerked back and the red mark that was slowly forming on his cheek contrasted with the blueness of his eyes. It was incredibly jarring to see Bruce during his playboy acts but even more so when a flicker of emotion could crack the façade. Apparently, such a flicker could come in the form of a blighted…girlfriend? Lover? Or…

"Fuck buddy." Lois emerged behind the pair dressed in a flowing burgundy gown, arm draped with newcomer reporter Buddy Jones and Clark tried not to groan. Keyword, _tried._ Buddy frowned but simply picked off the heart-shaped confetti from his tie.

Jimmy lowered his camera and chuckled. "Sources?"

"Catherine Hollandsworth. Heir to the Hollandsworth & Abraham fortune while also being last spotted with our lovely Gotham Prince over there for the past few weeks."

"And what, she got attached?"

Bruce's hand briefly rubbed his cheek but quickly gave a charming smile to the benefactors and socialist surrounding him. His mouth opened, apparently telling a joke, because soft laughter soon followed around the group.

"Judging from the force of that slap, apparently," said Buddy as Ms. Hollandsworth stormed her way out of the ballroom angrily. "That's definitely going to leave a mark. Should make a good story, don't you think?"

The soft chatter from the various socialists and businessmen arose once again, accompanied by the live music of violins and piano. But, Clark couldn't help the annoyance that was tugging at the back of his mind. "Well, Buddy, I'm pretty sure Perry wants us to focus more on the actual benefit than the gossip and petty drama."

"Oh?" Buddy's eyes narrowed but Lois simply laughed.

"What a surprise," she tilted her head, "farmboy here doesn't agree. Yeesh, Clark, cut Buddy some slack. At least he's got stories."

Jimmy tugged his shirt collar as Clark's baby blue eyes darkened but, as usual, her attention had turned back to Buddy as it had been for the past few weeks. It was ridiculous. Lois was treating the kid as if he was the Second Coming of Christ but there was only so much Clark could take from a guy whose parents named him _Buddy._ He wished he could use his powers to wipe that annoying smug look from the guy's face.

"Y'okay there, Clark?" Jimmy tapped his shoulder.

But instead, Clark excused himself, weaving his way between the people and out of the heavily decorated ballroom with cherubs and hearts, towards the balcony. It was times like these that he missed his home back in Smallville because even if you're on the nice side of Gotham, the sky would still be that ominous shade of red with nary a star in sight. The reporter shuddered. These benefits, for some reason, had a penchant for making Clark feel alone. He leaned against the railing, gazing at the Gotham City skyline.

Because, really, things were already bad enough without it having to be Valentine's Day.

"I need to get out of here…" Clark twisted his mouth in thought until an idea flashed in his mind. "Alfred."

Double checking his surroundings, the reporter slid off the balcony and flew up a few stories higher of the Hotel Pier Marquette. The English butler always accompanied Bruce to these things, enjoying the hotel luxuries as the billionaire waded in the mundane pleasantries of the Gotham elite below. Seeing as the billionaire was a bit preoccupied at the moment, it wouldn't _hurt_ to simply check up on the elderly man.

He didn't want to pull a Batman appearing act on him but…

Clark tapped on the large window. It wasn't too difficult to find, being that Bruce had the habit of picking the same floor and room number despite whatever hotel he would stay at. Alfred, of course, barely seemed surprised as he looked up from his book to spot a hovering Clark Kent, dressed in suit and loose tie, behind the hotel window. He had seen a lot of things in his time.

"Why Mr. Kent," he said, opening the window, "I should ever so I hope that you may feel comfortable enough to simply knock on the door instead of resorting to window hopping.

The reporter chuckled and glided through into the sleek modern living room, complete with a remote controlled fireplace, a crème modular sofa, and dim lighting. Clark removed his reporter hat and adjusted his glasses as Alfred closed the door.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you…"

The butler scoffed. "It's always a pleasure seeing you, Mr. Kent. Shall I be so inclined as to offer you a cup of tea while you make yourself comfortable?"

Clark simply nodded, following the Englishman into the adjoining kitchenette and silently watching as he bustled around, making cinnamon vanilla herbal tea. A soft smile crept on his face as the Kryptonian fondly remembered the times he'd sneak downstairs back in his home in Smallville as a boy. His mother would always catch him trying, but ultimately failing, to make a late night snack. Who would've guessed the intricacies of a grilled cheese sandwich could be so complex? In the end, he'd watch as Ma would make him hot cocoa.

He sighed.

"If I may be so bold, sir," Alfred said, back facing him as he heated the tea kettle, "but is there something troubling you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, you hardly leave your coworkers when you're on a story unless Lex Luthor is on the lamb. Furthermore," he turned around, "that seems to have been the fifth sigh you've made in the past fifteen minutes."

He raised his eyebrows. "…Impressive."

"I have been taking care of the World's Greatest Detective for quite some time."

A laugh escaped from the reporter but he squinted his eyes in confusion when he saw Alfred pour a third cup of tea. Before the question formed on his lips, but the butler spoke knowingly. "I believe Master Wayne would enjoy a warm cup of tea as he's resting in the living room. Don't you think, sir?"

Clark left the kitchenette, wandering back to the living room to see a visibly tired Bruce Wayne lounging on a sofa chair, arm covering his eyes. His legs were propped up on the foot still as his suit jacket lay draped on the back of the couch.

"I would've joined you two but," the billionaire's voice was muffled by his sleeve, "didn't want to interrupt your little heart to heart."

* * *

"Does your face still hurt?"

Bruce glared, lips pursed, as he adjusted the ice pack that Alfred _insisted_ he use against his bruised cheek. His eyes turned back to the television mounted above the fireplace.

"No comment, Mr. Wayne?" Clark smirked and gestured his hand as if it was a microphone. "Should we let the gals back in Metropolis know that you're back on the market?"

He caught the pillow that suddenly shot at him without even blinking and snorted. "Really?" Clark inspected the pillow. "Not even laced with kryptonite or" –

"If you want to continue to be in my presence, you're talking will have to decrease. Infinitely."

The television flickered as Julia Robert's character ran after Dermot Mulroney, who was running after the girl Cameron Diaz was playing. Honestly, Clark had no idea what was going on after watching whatever-it-was that they had been watching for the past hour. Aretha Franklin's voice filled the room, her harmonies and background singers wailing to the top of their lungs about _forever_ and _love_ as the chase continued on the screen.

Clark tilted his head, observing Bruce's intent gaze on the flat screen TV. He's known the Gothamite for so long but there were a few of those odd quirks that he was still uncovering. Apparently, one of them being _this._

"Didn't take you as a rom-com kinda guy. You going soft on me, Bruce?"

"Didn't take you as a complete wuss. You still avoiding Lois?"

Scowling, the Kryptonian grabbed a handful of candy, compliments of the hotel, in response. The chalky sugar coated his tongue and he scrutinized the heart-shaped candies in his hand, a mixture of _Be Mine's, Hug Me's,_ and _My Girl's._ He groaned.

"Hmm." Bruce smirked and shifted in his seat. "I'm guessing that's a yes."

"Pretty sure you should be the last guy to point a finger. What about you and Miss Catherine Hollandswood" –

" _Hollandsworth._ "

"So you admit you know her?"

"Is this for an interview, _Clark_?" he stuck out his hand, eyes never flicking towards him. "You're hogging all the candy."

Clark frowned because, well, since when did Bruce like candy – let alone the chalky Valentine kind? But, he passed the glass bowl wordlessly and crossed his arms as the movie continued. Clearly, Bruce didn't want to talk about his love life just like Clark didn't want to talk about _his_ love life. Because it was currently nonexistent. Now, Julia Roberts' character was making some speech about love and friendship in a women's bathroom? Clark held back his sigh.

"It was either this," said Bruce, "or Madea's Family Reunion."

"…Not much of a choice."

"A Hobson's choice."

"Aren't those movies Dick's favorite?" Clark frowned in thought. "I remember him quoting something from Madea Goes to Jail once during a mission."

He scoffed. "I believe he just watched those to torture me."

"Guessing he's out with Barbara today?" the billionaire nodded, causing Clark to give a small yet melancholy smile. "At least one of us has things going well relationship-wise."

A few moments passed on in silence, the movie playing quietly before them as Alfred buzzed in the kitchenette in the room over, before Bruce spoke. "You and Dick are different."

"There's good different and bad different. I'm pretty sure Lois believes I'm the bad kind."

Bruce snorted. "Well, Lois is" –

"Master Wayne," Alfred's voice expertly rang from the kitchenette, accompanied by water drizzling from the sink, "I believe it would be wise to think before our words tonight, don't you?"

The billionaire frowned, sitting up straighter, "...I was _going_ to say that she's a reporter. She's difficult to please."

Clark crammed more hard candy in his mouth, trying to stifle any amount of laughter. It was odd seeing Bruce, the uncaped crusader, scolded like a petulant child but odder when an insult didn't accompany his words about Lois. The two never seemed to get along-Lois hating Bruce Wayne for obvious, womanizing reasons, and Bruce hating Lois Lane probably because Clark couldn't shut up about her.

"It'll pass eventually but…what are you laughing about?"

"Oh, nothing."

Bruce glowered but it just made Clark laugh more. What was the point in trying to hide it now? "Look, Bruce, I appreciate your pep talk about Lois. I'm sure it almost literally killed you to say anything somewhat nice about her." The reporter ran a hand through his hair. "And, hey, if it'll make you feel better, I'm sure you and Catherine" –

" _Clark._ "

"Will wind up like Cameron Diaz and Dylan McDermott over there. Or Dermot McDylan. Whatever."

"Funny," Bruce said, voice flat. "And I don't date."

"Yeah, the world's noticed. Why?"

"It helps with the cover. I'm too busy regardless."

"Really?" Clark frowned and scratched his head. "I mean, you've always said that but I never believed it. It doesn't seem like a good enough excuse."

He fiddled with the melting bag of ice and cleared his throat. "Like I said, you and Dick are different. It's not one of my strengths."

"What isn't? What do you mean?"

"Being happy."

Clark's mouth opened slightly but he remained silent and, strangely, hurt. He thought that Dick and the other sons had shined a little light in the billionaire's life and that his time developing relationships with the Justice League members had made him realize that he wasn't alone. While their friendship always seemed a bit one-sided, it was still something. But, in the end, Bruce was always a good actor.

"I thought…"

"It's always been challenging for me," Bruce paused briefly but soon continued. "It's a weakness of mine no doubt. But you're different." He glanced at the empty teacup resting beside him. "You're a good man, Clark. I mean that."

The Kryptonian's face softened, not knowing what to say, and it was then that Alfred emerged carrying a platter full of slices of fruit and triangle sandwiches. "Since you two gentlemen decided to leave the banquet quite early, I assumed that your stomachs wouldn't mind something to eat rather than Valentine's Day candy."

They quietly helped themselves to morsels of food as the movie finally finished a few minutes later. "It's funny. You're slap in the face was a real wake-up call for me." Bruce raised his eyebrow but Clark lifted his hand. "I care about Lois, I really do, but we're both just different people. Seeing her tonight made me realize how we're both in our own worlds. She's something else."

Snorting, the billionaire opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it as Alfred walked by. Clark merely shook his head and, while there was plenty of food left on the platter, reached for a few more candied hearts.


	7. Begin Again

_A/N: So sorry for the long break! Terrible writer's block after returning from my trip. This is much longer so I hope you enjoy. Please leave a review :)_

* * *

"Ahh…ahh…" Clark leaned against the bathroom counter and stared into the mirror, holding in his breath. His dark eyelashes fluttered as his eyes closed and he only counted to number four when—"Achooo!"

Mouthwash, soap, and toothpaste suddenly crystalized, thick ice shrouding the surrounding objects.

Darn that Artic breath.

Of all the times to get sick it had to be the end of the year, particularly New Year's Eve, when everyone else was outside at dinner parties, ice skating or reminiscing over drinks. While he had never been much of a drinker, tasting that odd fermented barley would still be better than standing a sniffling pathetic mess in the middle of his now-frozen-bathroom.

Not even attempting to bother with the ice, Clark shuffled out of the bathroom and adjusted the fuzzy blanket cocooning his overheated body as he made his way into the small living room. His apartment was dark, all of the shades drawn and windows shutting out the laughter and car horns from outside. The whispery static of the TV hummed throughout the sparse room, the black and white images flickering on Dick Clark's New Year's Eve Party, as an analog clock ticked softly from the kitchenette. With a low groan, the Kryptonian flopped down on the couch, which was littered with Kleenexes and lozenge wrappers.

"Well, weren't they just wonderful? I think they were!" Dick Clark's smiling face filled the TV screen, his pearly white teeth shining so bright that it almost made the Smallville man wince. The TV host laughed. "Only a little while left until the ball drops and, I gotta tell you folks, I'm just as excited as you are!"

Clark sighed but it soon turned into a coughing fit and he only hoped that his laser beams wouldn't start shooting. Hastily, he snatched another Kleenex from the box resting on the small wooden end table next to him. It was late in the evening, the Metropolis skies a dull shade of blue and purple, and he wondered what everyone was doing at that exact moment. Jimmy had called earlier, wishing him a happy new year as he got ready for the Daily Planet's annual celebration office party.

He sighed.

Clark had finally invited Lana to attend the office party with him. While they had been old friends in elementary school, the two had drifted apart up until he recently visited his parents over Memorial Day weekend. She was still the same—button nose, red-orange hair and bright eyes. Nothing had changed between them and when she had accepted his hesitant invitation, Clark felt like a schoolboy with a crush. But now, Lana was stranded at the Smallville airport due to the blizzard conditions up north. Normally, Superman could make a cameo and just assist the plane through the storms, flying them himself but, well, in his condition he would probably wind up sneezing it off course into Canada...

 _"_ _I'm stuck here and now you're sick!" Lana chuckled as announcements rang out in the background of the airport. "I can't help but feel like you're punishing me somehow…"_

 _Clark reddened and he wasn't sure if it was from the fever. He adjusted the phone. "Now, I would never do something like that to you."_

 _"_ _Oh?"_

 _Ohh. How he wished he could use his super-speed right now._

So, New Year's Eve had so far consisted of coughing fits, sneezing fits, sniffling fits, and a few phone calls from family and friends. While it was nice hearing from his parents (who of course chastised him for getting sick in the first place) and a few coworkers from the Daily Planet, the Kryptonian felt alone at the end. It seemed as if others had merely forgotten about him and the world was going on without him. The lights of the TV flickered onto Clark's exhausted face as he blinked, thinking back to the first time he celebrated New Years with friends. It was so different from now—basically enveloped into the darkness of his apartment and the only form of company coming from his staring goldfish.

* * *

 _Flash spun around in his seat, a large grin on his face. "C'mon, guys, it would be fun! Just think about it—I mean, we could put lights up in the monitor room and get, like, all dolled up, y'know?"_

 _"_ _Dolled up?" Green Lantern snorted, eyes glued to the computer screen as he remained updating the logs. "You've been watching too many Good Luck, Chuck shows."_

 _While they had only been a team less than a year, it seemed as if they had known each other longer than that. It was strange, Superman thought as he hovered by the window. After battling with Zara and Eviless in Chicago, the League had settled down back in the monitor room at the Watchtower to discuss new strategic planning as well as getting much needed rest. Hawkgirl hovered over Lantern as he continued updating the log, backseating as usual, while Wonder Woman lounged next to J'onn on one of the benches. The princess laughed and crossed her arms. "I believe a party in the Watchtower wouldn't be the most fitting. It seems to be nothing but metal, wires, and computers."_

 _"_ _Oh, ye of little faith." Flash shook his head and winked. "You've just gotta be a little creative, that's all!"_

 _Superman cocked his head in thought. He had spent little time with the team outside of missions and it wasn't like he had any plans for New Year's Eve. The Daily Planet was hosting some sort of an annual office party but Superman really didn't see the point if Lois wasn't going. The Man of Steel shrugged. "I wouldn't mind."_

 _Even with the mask, the pure excitement was evident on Flash's face. "Awesome! I can work on the food menu, Lantern, you can DJ, cause, well, you know"—_

 _"_ _What," Lantern frowned as he dragged out the word, "are you even talking"—_

 _"_ _And the gals can do decorations, cause, well, you know"—_

 _"_ _Listen, dumbass." Hawkgirl snorted, eyebrows raised as Wonder Woman rolled her eyes. "Just so you know, you better not let your little brain run too far with this. You're going to have to get this all past Old Man Bats."_

 _The others chuckled softly throughout the monitor room—save for Flash, whose shoulders drooped at the sudden realization. Clearing his throat, Superman tried not to join along. While he had met Batman before any of the other heroes, he understood the first impressions the lone detective gave off to others. The two may not be friends but they had a mutual understanding, a history of toleration. Superman knew that the lone detective didn't emit the warmest of impressions to others but he always knew that the two had each other's backs._

 _Flash scratched his chin. "We could always distract him by setting Gotham on fire…"_

 _A low beep rippled softly as the entrance to the monitor room opened, revealing the Caped Crusader himself. Addressing no one, he headed to the filing cabinets silently, dark cape flowing behind him. Lantern coughed, Hawkgirl bit her lip and Flash twiddled his thumbs as the rest tried to appear nonchalant or as nonchalant as they could. Because anyone with half a brain could realize that they clearly weren't._

 _Superman cleared his throat, trying to diffuse the awkward atmosphere in the air but most likely made it worse by floundering with his next words. "So…uh…" He could hear Hawkgirl snickering but he tried again, "So, Batman"—_

 _"_ _No."_

* * *

A short but deliberate knock interrupted Clark's slumber and he scrambled off the couch, clambering for the fallen sheets in confusion. Was it New Year's already? But, the knock came again and his cluttered alien mind finally registered the intruding sound coming from his door. Normally, the Kryptonian would use his x-ray vision to check who was there but in this state of health he didn't fully trust himself.

"Yes?" he croaked as he waddled to the door. "Pretty sure I paid the rent on time…"

But instead of coming face to face with a disgruntled landlord—Mr. Rodriguez with the bad leg—Clark came face to face with a disgruntled Bruce Wayne. Or, at least he was pretty _sure_ it was Bruce. The multiple brown paper grocery bags resting in his arms obscured most of his face so the only thing actually visible was—

"You're in my way."

Yup. Definitely Bruce.

The billionaire brushed past him without a second glance as Clark stood by the open door utterly bewildered, brass knob still clutched in his hand. Light snow clung to the philanthropist's hair and dusted the shoulders of his dark trench coat. But the music and voices flittered from down the hall, clogging the alien's senses.

"Is…is there…" he rasped but paused, watching silently as Bruce placed the bags on the countertop and began unloading the contents. "Did something happen?"

Bruce snorted. "You look worse than I imagined."

"…Huh. Probably. I'm not hallucinating, am I?"

" _No_ , Clark."

"You're not, like, a mirage?"

"A mirage. In the middle of your kitchen." And, as under the weather as the reporter was, even he could detect the obvious sarcasm dripping from the statements.

Clark frowned. "You're unloading groceries in my kitchenette on New Year's Eve when you're normally the Great Gatsby on nights like this." He sniffled. "What else am I supposed to think? It's the only logical explanation."

"Kal." The Gothamite finally paused from his tasks and looked up, clearly exasperated with cold blue eyes bright from the December weather. "I've done crazier things."

"…True."

And with that, Bruce continued to unload the bags, pulling out plastic containers and bottles of wine. Eventually, Clark closed the door and padded towards the kitchenette, watching quietly in curiosity. Dick Clark's voice ruffled in the background, the fish tank hummed nearby, and it wasn't until a little while later that Bruce looked up once more as the bags had all been unloaded.

"I don't normally cook."

Clark raised an eyebrow. Was that the fact of the day? "I didn't ask you to…"

" _No,_ " said Bruce and, maybe it was the cough syrup but Clark almost thought that he seemed…uncomfortable? But, the billionaire simply crossed his arms and continued. "I don't cook _well._ And, Alfred thought it was more… _appropriate_ if he didn't assist."

Okay, now he was the definition of confused. The Kryptonian shook his head. "Bruce, you're going to have to speak with more words and less ambiguity. I'm in no health to translate your sentences tonight."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You're sick aren't you? You need sustenance." He opened one of the containers, revealing steamy hot wonton soup with dumplings and carrots bobbing on the surface. "Dick said you like that Chinese place but you also need zinc for your immune system so I went to that breakfast and eggs place, then bought some yogurt for probiotic but wasn't certain what flavors you liked…"

It was the most words Clark had ever heard coming from Bruce's mouth in basically…ever. If this was a hallucination, he was touched either way.

"So," Clark cleared his throat, trying to suppress the pure surprise in his voice, "you went shopping."

"I _am_ capable of such tasks. I don't rely on Alfred for everything."

He laughed. "Clearly. Wow, Bruce, I'm really impressed. You really didn't have to do all of"—

"I'm assuming you're hungry." He spun around and began opening a few other containers. "You may need to microwave some of these."

Thick eyebrows drawn together, it was evident that Bruce was in his focusing mode. It was always odd to see the expression on his face without the darkness of the cowl. Clark ran a hand through his hair with a small grin. "You're not gonna let me say thank you, are you?"

"No."

* * *

 _"_ _Happy New Year!" the champagne sprayed from Wally's hands as he shook the glass bottle in the air. "Woo-hoo!"_

 _John groaned. "Are we really going to do this every time its New Year's in a different part of the world?"_

 _Clark chuckled as he stood by the snack table. He was pretty energized since he had just come back from a boost from the sun but, regardless, he nibbled on the pizza that Wally had ordered. The warm cheese, onions, and sausages melted on Clark's tongue as he ate and conversed with his fellow JLA members. It was a light atmosphere in the meeting room, a few streamers hung overhead while music played softly in the background. The large overhead screen projected the World News, which was on mute, but the images of celebration around the globe were enough to capture the excitement._

 _Noticing J'onn staring out the window alone, Clark excused himself from Diana and John's ongoing debate about movies, and made his way towards the Martian. "Admiring the view?"_

 _"_ _In a way perhaps…" the window reflected J'onn's solemn face and soon Clark's face appeared. "It is quite beautiful."_

 _They stared at the view of space quietly as the noise of the celebration echoed in the background. It was always odd to think how similar but different he and J'onn were—both aliens with their home planets destroyed. But, while Clark had been blessed with his adoptive Earth parents, J'onn had no one._

 _Clark spoke up. "I'm glad you've chosen to stay, J'onn. Earth can be…not very beautiful at times."_

 _The music grew louder in the background, some sort of poppy tune, and it was then that Clark noticed that Bruce hadn't appeared yet._

 _"_ _I still find this planet strange," he said, a ghost of a smile appearing for a moment, "but, I believe without the aid of the others, I would continue to be quite lost."_

 _"_ _Well, I'm glad to aid you in any way. We all are, I mean, as your friends"—_

 _A loud belch rumbled behind them, quickly followed by groans and laughter—"Impressive, Shay!"_

 _Rolling his eyes, Clark shook his head but J'onn merely chuckled. "Odd friends but friends nonetheless."_

 _It was no surprise that Bruce wasn't at the celebration, less of a surprise when no one seemed to mind, and lesser still of a surprise when Clark later found the Caped Crusader in the monitoring room. Midnight was quickly approaching back home and the celebration had gradually intensified, complete with party noisemakers and sparklers. The Kryptonian knew he would find him tucked away somewhere in the Tower, working instead of staying home with loved ones. So, he had wandered the halls until he found what he was looking for. Leaning against the doorframe, Clark watched Batman hunched over the computer, submitting reports and updating files._

 _"_ _If you're going to watch," he said, never turning, "at least sit down."_

 _Pfft, of course Bruce had noticed him. Sometimes he felt like the guy had some unknown super senses. Clark took the empty swivel chair next to him, setting a glass of wine down that Shayera had shoved into his hands. "I thought you'd at least be in Gotham."_

 _Batman's gloved fingers briefly paused on the keyboard. "They increased police patrol. It wasn't necessary for me to stay."_

 _"_ _But, don't you have one of those annual parties at the manor? The one's you never invite me to."_

 _"_ _Please." He snorted. "Don't beg, Clark. It's unbecoming."_

 _Rolling his eyes, he finally sipped the glass of white wine but his eyebrows furrowed as the alcohol hit his tongue. Darn, he'll never get used to this stuff. A strange, abrupt hiccup sound quickly came from Bruce and it was clear to Clark that he hadn't masked his disgust that well. The billionaire had actually laughed. Surprised, Clark chuckled, his laughter only growing louder as Batman simply shook his head, a small smirk flickering underneath the cowl._

* * *

"You know I don't like wine though." Clark sipped the liquid again and shuddered. "Did you douse it with rubbing alcohol and fuel?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Be an adult, Clark."

"Well, at least I can feel it burning the bacteria away down my throat. And probably a section of my throat."

He snorted but sipped his wine quietly, shifting on the chair as Clark sniffled, stomach full. It wasn't like being energized by the sun but the Kryptonian felt much better regardless. After finishing the food, the pair had been sipping wine as the clock ticked. Nearby, the parties throughout the apartment building had reached full swing, music growing louder through the walls as midnight approached.

"I wonder what the rest of the JLA members are up to." He glanced at the clock hanging above and gulped a bit of wine. "Don't think I've heard from them since our last mission in that other dimension."

Bruce shrugged. "Everyone's been busy."

"Yeah, I guess. But, it's so weird how much has past. I remember when we all first celebrated New Year's together—that feels almost like forever ago."

"Getting sentimental, are we."

"I guess." Clark smiled and dragged his finger across the kitchen counter, thinking and took another sip. "I always wonder though…you guys are like my family. It would be such a different life I didn't know any of you."

The billionaire remained quiet, eyes staring off towards the stack of empty containers and paper bags.

"But, I guess that's just how things are in life. Changes. New beginnings. Fresh starts and everything else. You know"—

" _Clark_ …" and it was then that he noticed Bruce's shoulders shaking fairly, that strange hiccupping sound making an appearance again after five years. He was _laughing._ A smile and everything. Clark's eyebrows shot up in confusion. The laughter continued, short tuffs of breath softly bubbling from the billionaire as he shook his head. "So you get sentimental when tipsy."

"What? I don't—I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm not, then again I don't think I ever _have_ been"—

Pounding on the door interrupted the alien's ramblings and he glanced at Bruce for help, in which of course, he gave none. More chuckles escaped once Clark stood up, swaying slightly with a frown and went to open the door.

"Surprise!" Wally burst from the entrance before the door was even fully opened, Shayera, John, and Diana grinning behind him with a blank-faced J'onn. "Happy New Year!"

The confusion was evident on his face but the joy overtook it quickly. "What are you all doing here?"

"Batman contacted us through the comlink earlier," said John, shedding off his coat and ramming into the wall as Shayera shoved through. He scowled. "Should've used the bathroom _before_ we left."

Wally flung an arm around the bewildered Kryptonian. "Yup. Said something about a mopey Supes needing some lovin'. Well, those weren't his exact words but you get the gist." He glanced at the bottles of wine and raised an eyebrow. "You drunk?"

"You guys didn't have to do this," said Clark smiling and, clearly, dodging the question. "Really."

J'onn sat down next to Diana. "It is what friends are for, Kal-El."

"Um," Shayera wandered back into the living room with a frown, "you do know that you're bathroom is frozen, right?"

The apartment became crowded, full of laughter and chatter as the team caught up together on previous news. Stories of old missions retold, jokes repeated, and wine passed. It was 11:58 and Clark's mouth was sore from smiling so much.

"Sooo," said Clark, definitely feeling the effects of the wine. Who knew that he could? "Are you going to let me say thank you now?"

Bruce had been lounging nearby, not too far away like he normally did, but close enough to be a part of the conversations even though he barely contributed. Sitting on the arm of the couch, close to the edge, his eyes flicked towards the clock before back at Clark. It was midnight. He shrugged but there was a ghost of a grin. "You don't have to."


	8. Back to Back

_AN: Yes, I'm alive. I've been slacking in the writing department but I hope you can forgive me and drop some reviews. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

"The office is about to close, Mr. Kent."

Ripping another sheet of paper from his typewriter, Clark crumpled it in his hands as he leaned back in his swivel chair. "Thanks, Albert. I'm almost done here."

It was a chilly day in March, the sky a bright grey as the sun hid behind the swirling clouds—such a contrast to earlier, with the streets buzzing with dozens of happy drunk Metropolitans, decorated in shimmering shades of green clothing and odd shades of vomit.

Clark had been on this planet for as long as he could remember, yet, there were still some times were he felt a tad bit… _alien._

Tilting his head, the custodian said, "You look like you've got a lot on your mind, son."

The reporter stretched, a small, tired smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. Sure, when he had been canvasing the field earlier that day outside of the building, he had been greeted with so many bellowing _Hey, brahh's_ and screeching _Whasuup's_ that his head was probably still spinning. He'd experienced St. Patrick's Day countless of times before and it never ceased to amaze—no, _confuse_ him. But, that wasn't what was on his mind.

"Work is on my mind," he said, lying between his teeth as he adjusted the platen knob of the typewriter, and the custodian nodded knowingly. "Just trying to finish this Q&A."

Because, Clark Kent had a lot of things on his mind: bills, family, groceries, Perry-probably-firing-him-for-this-terrible-article, and all the in-betweens. But, it all narrowed down to his desk. In the corner. His answering machine. Blinking. One message. That message, 10 seconds, was on his mind.

So, it was a bit of stretch—work wasn't on his mind. Not really. Which was why he was the only person left in the office, the clock ticking well past the end of his shift.

Albert smiled and began pushing his mop bucket wringer. "Well, I'll leave you be. Hope you've got some plans tonight that'll distract you from work."

He almost snorted. There were plans tonight, yes, but that didn't mean they'd be the distraction he was looking for over an hour ago. The League members and Clark had been seeing a lot of each other outside of missions lately. All this time Clark thought he knew his fellow leaguers fairly well by diffusing bombs and managing hostage situations together but who would have known that Diana has a penchant for slapstick comedies and John despises pickles? It was great seeing everyone in their civvies without the stench of doom upon them. Mostly everyone.

 _"_ _You have one new message."_

It was almost an hour past his shift at the Daily Planet and Clark stopped caring hours ago. Pulling the carriage release lever, he ripped off the paper and shoved it into a folder as he grabbed for the rest of his belongings, annoyance radiating off his shoulders.

 _"_ _Pick up your phone, Kent."_

Barely 10 seconds long but jarring nonetheless. The billionaire wasn't the type of person to leave messages let alone exactly call people. Bruce had always preferred the emerging-from-the-shadows notification. But, he hadn't seen much of Bruce for a while and, honestly, it wasn't like the Smallville man was trying much anyway.

Clark tossed the folder into Perry's mailbox before heading into the elevator, huffing as he leaned against the wall. It was in his nature to extend olive branches but, lately, he was getting pretty tired of having to always look out for others. The day before, Wally had asked him if Bruce was going to be joining them for, in his words, "our green late night festivities." And, it wouldn't have bothered him…if Diana hadn't already been asking about the Gothamite and if J'onn hadn't mentioned him during monitor duty the other week.

Sure, Diana _clearly_ liked Bruce but did Clark have a sign on his forehead, labeling him Batman's Babysitter? That job was already entitled to an elderly British man with a pencil mustache.

Checking his watch, Clark stepped out of the building and into the cool evening air of downtown. The sounds of the city had intensified with the shadow of St. Patrick's Day: taxi horns, bicycle bells; chatter and shouts from commuters. It was later than he realized but Maxwell's Bar wasn't too far from the office. Maybe a nice walk would do some good to clear his mind instead of super speeding—

"He lives."

Clark nearly tripped down the steps of the Daily Planet and stuttered to a less than graceful halt. His eyebrows shot up. "Bruce? What're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Bruce said, leaning against the door to a black Mercedes Benz, which was parked on the aligning street. Arms crossed, his grey tie fluttered in the wind and it was clear that he had—driven? flown? teleported?—straight from Wayne Enterprise or a business meeting of some kind.

"I work here." Clark scowled, suddenly not liking the obvious accusation dripping from his tone. "You don't even live here."

"…Hmph. I'll give you a lift."

He watched, perplexed, as Bruce spun around and got into the car, the Mercedes roaring to life. There goes extending the olive branch. Except he never thought it would turn out like this. Holding back a sigh, Clark followed and lifted his briefcase into his lap.

* * *

"—You don't even know where I'm going."

"—You're sitting on important documents."

"What?"

" _Get up_."

It was starting to hurt when Clark rolled his eyes, but he did so anyway as he scrambled off the seat, hands lifting a smooshed file folder underneath.

"Those are the datasets and initial notes from our last mission," Bruce said before Clark could open his mouth. "245 pages. I was only able to transcribe them recently."

Several thoughts were running in the Smallville man's mind at that statement, but his mouth chose one. "You came all the way here. To drop off a mission file."

Bruce grunted and changed lanes. "If you're implying something, you might as well just say it."

"I'm not implying anything."

Another grunt.

"You can grunt all you want but it's a long drive from Gotham to Metrop"—

The car took a sharp turn and if it weren't for his super senses, Clark would have dropped the files onto the floor. The billionaire glared ahead. "I was nearby for a conference, _Kal'El._ "

Leave it to Bruce to berate Clark like he was a petulant child. It was beyond ridiculous and the peeved mood he was in a few minutes ago returned.

"Duly noted." He grasped the handle. "If that's it then, I've got to get going."

"I'm dropping you off, you don't have to _fly_ off."

"You don't _know_ where I'm headed," he repeated but as the words fell from his mouth, Clark noticed the car was going in the right direction.

"Maxwell's Bar. I overheard…" he cleared his throat and checked his side view mirror. "Anyway, it's three blocks east."

The car inched forward through the thick horde of traffic and they both knew that it would be faster walking or probably even crawling. But, the two remained quiet as stubborn as they were. If Alfred were around, he would have clucked his tongue at the site.

Clark halfheartedly thumbed through the pages in the folder. "It was pretty busy at the office today." And when the billionaire didn't say anything, Clark added, "I was behind on a few things."

Bruce snorted. "Your lying skills are as bad as that disguise."

"Predictable," he mumbled, already regretting the drive. There was a reason he avoided his phone call and there was a reason they're only recent interaction were on-missions. Because, as much as they were undeniably some form of friends and, at times even warring brothers, Bruce's personality was exhausting.

His eyebrows crinkled. "Predictable. You think _I'm_ predictable?"

Maxwell's Bar came into view and the Mercedes slowed down as it pulled up to the entrance. Perched above the double doors, an Irish flag waved in the air and the sign in front flashed green. Squinting, Clark could see the rest of the JLA members inside, sitting on stools with a few drinks in their hands.

"I believe that's what I said." But the look on Bruce's face was beyond incredulous so Clark lifted a finger. "Brooding, argumentative, reclusive. Rinse and repeat."

He blinked. "Rinse and repeat."

"Oh, and _skeptical_." The car door swung open as Clark stepped out and shoved the documents hastily into his briefcase. He knew he was being quite argumentative himself but he was beyond caring. Sitting in a cubicle for hours could do that to a man. His knuckles gently rapped the roof of the Mercedes Benz. "I'll see you at monitor duty."

All the reporter needed right now was a drink, awful karaoke music, and friends who were _more_ than remotely happy. He wasn't asking for much. But as he walked to the entrance, unzipping his jacket as he did so, he heard the car door swing open. Spinning around, eyebrow raised, Clark watched as Bruce stepped out and put money into a nearby parking meter.

After a few moments tinkering with the device—Clark was pretty sure Bruce had never actually used one—the billionaire made his way over, roughly brushing his shoulder as he walked by.

"Well?" he called over his shoulder.

Clark could basically _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

* * *

"Well…" Wally blinked a few times, "Either someone laced my drink with something or that's not a hallucination and really _is_ the Big B."

Snorts of agreement and chuckles rippled through the group as they lounged in the corner booth of the bar, eyebrows raised. The bar wasn't too crowded, save for the full counter watching the Patrick's Day parade on a small hanging TV, there were a few patrons scattered throughout out as classic rock played in the background.

"Sorry if I'm late," said Clark as Bruce simply raised an eyebrow at Wally. "Had a…change of plans."

They were all dressed casually—jeans, shirts, and sweaters—but leave it to the speedster to hand out green beaded plastic necklaces to get into the spirit. He didn't know if he was supposed to offer an explanation for the surprise guest because he wouldn't even know where to start. Clark slid next to John who was nursing a drink.

"We did not know you would be joining us, Bruce," said J'onn, incognito as a bald headed investment banker eerily similar to Lex. A bowl of peanuts sat in front of him in replacement of a drink. "But, if I may speak for the rest, am pleased with the change of plans."

Grinning, Wally tossed a necklace at Clark. "For sure, Bats! But you guys haven't really missed much. Well, except for Shay trying to get us all to do shots."

"Can't we just get drunk like normal people?" the Thanagarian whined as she shifted in her seat. "Clark, c'mon, remember New Years? You're not the innocent farm boy like everyone says you are."

" _Wha"_ —

"I would prefer just simple conversation instead," Diana said, eyes flickering briefly towards Bruce, which caused Shayera to inwardly groan.

Wally shuttered. "Ugh. Last time I did shots with Shay, I woke up in an alley somewhere with a couple of rub on tattoos." He wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, you can count me out."

"Trying to outdrink a Thanagarian." Shayera tilted her head back as she gulped down her beer and snickered. "Tough luck, buddy."

John grunted. "No one wants to play your _stupid_ drinking game"—

"I'll do it."

All eyes zeroed in on the billionaire at the end of the booth, who simply shrugged at the sudden attention. "Not all of my playboy antics are acts."

"Wow. You feeling okay?" The Thanagarian tilted her head in observation and shrugged. "Cause they don't serve martinis here."

"Funny. Shots are on me."

It was strange—the entire group worked as a team when they were under pressure from the likes of Solomon Grundy or Sinestro. Get them in a room together without the capes and the story could change very quickly. He wasn't exactly sure what Bruce was trying to prove but, the Smallville man came here to relax so, instead of donning his Batman Babysitter sash, he let the alcohol slide down his throat.

The glasses clinked on the table as Shayera and Bruce took their first shot after the waitress left. She grinned. "I always thought you were an uptight asshole but this is kind of nice."

He frowned. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Wally nudged Clark's shoulder. "What kind of bet did Bruce lose for you to drag him here?"

He raised his hands. "Don't look at me."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions without Clark's guidance." Bruce refilled the shot glasses and cocked his head. "Ladies first."

The Thanagarian chuckled before she threw her head back for a drink. "Never thought I'd live the day to see this."

"I'm betting alien body swap," the red-headed speedster whispered to Clark, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. Wally jerked his head. "For old Brucey boy over there. Could be a robot, too. Hmm, but mind control should never be ruled out cause I mean Waller's crazier than Luthor."

"I think you're overreacting. Look, we all came here to relax so let's relax." The Daily Planet reporter glanced at the Gothamite. "He's fine."

But, a while later—count that several shot glasses later—Clark wasn't so sure how to define _fine_ anymore.

More people had trickled into the bar in green shirts, jewelry and hats as the evening progressed, the atmosphere shifting as Celtic music grew louder. They easily blended into the scene with a hyperactive Wally West, which was normal. A flushed but graceful Diana Prince, which was somewhat normal. And a sulking J'onn J'onzz, which was pretty normal.

The Very Talkative Bruce Wayne, however, was not.

"Of course I enjoy fun," Bruce said to Wally, pointing a finger. "You _. You_ don't enjoy fun."

Clark had seen a lot of strange things in his life as Superman—on and off world. But, this, _this_ trumped them all as the single strangest experience. Ever.

Wally balked. "Please! I bet all of your robins would disagree on that one."

"They've never been to any of Bruce Wayne's parties."

Surprised laughter echoed throughout their corner booth and Clark found himself shaking his head for the umpteenth time that day. It was like experiencing some out-of-body phenomenon.

"I must say that it is good to see you enjoying yourself, Bruce." J'onn smiled as Diana nodded. "Odd but good."

Shayera belched. "And all this time Clark was worried that you were going to ruin everything. Good thing you came anyway!"

A beat passed and John cleared his throat before taking another gulp of beer. Bruce's expression didn't change—the slight teasing grin still stretched his mouth and his head remained tilted easily. But, the slow blink was a clear indicator that he understood.

"I mean, he didn't even want to mention it!"

"I think Clark was just tired of us, what was the word used, _hounding_ him about it?" Diana frowned in thought. "Correct?"

Clark reddened. "I _didn't_ mean it"—

"Nah, he's just tired of playing den mother all the time, am I right?" Wally grinned as he slapped his shoulder. "Even though you're so good at it!"

"He has to put up with a lot of shit—particularly from _you_ Wally," the billionaire jabbed another finger in the speedster's face, "but Clark's still a good man. He does good things—all the things. He _does_ them. I mean," he gestured, "he's probably better than all of us combined."

It was as if time froze for a moment in the corner booth as they all stared at the Gothamite. Even Shayera, who was probably drunker than Bruce, raised an eyebrow.

Diana spoke. "Wow, Bruce...that was a really kind thing"—

"And another thing." Bruce frowned, blue eyes bluer than before. "I don't even _understand_ why I'm here in the first place because I have too many things to do all the time. Always. So, I don't want"—

Clark stood up and grabbed the rambling billionaire's arm, hauling him to his feet. "Alright, time to go, Bruce. We've got to all do this again some other time, right?" He tossed a quick wave to the already confused JLA members and exited the bar before Bruce could say anything else that he never wanted to say aloud.

The cool night air hit the Smallville man's face and he was grateful for the sudden breeze that swept through them. The two stood outside of the bar for a few moments, quietly watching Metropolitans walking by on the sidewalk.

"Clark," he finally said. "I don't know if you realize this but I'm a bit drunk."

"I can see that."

He hummed softly and closed his eyes for a moment. "I might…require your assistance to the car."

A crooked smile bent the corners of Clark's mouth. He wasn't exactly sure what to say, but it was good to know that as much as he had Bruce's back, Bruce would always have his, too. Shifting slightly, he lifted the billionaire's arm over his shoulder and made their way towards the Mercedes.

"I hope you know," said Clark, balancing Bruce's weight and the car keys, "that the only thing I've ever driven before was a tractor."

"Pfft—predictable."


	9. White Knight

_A/N: Wow. Seriously thought I would have updated this earlier but the awful aftertaste of Batman VS Superman slowed me down. My apologies if some information about Superman is off-I only know stuff from the DCAU. It took me a while to get into the groove of writing this but I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Sparks flickered in the air as telephone wires tumbled into a heap from the force of the Man of Steel's fall. The ground shook at the impact, concrete jutting out into oblong shapes and odd angles. In the middle of it all Superman crouched in the rubble wincing.

Leave it to today of all the days for Kalibak to attack. No, the beast couldn't have attacked next week or the week after. It had to be _now_ of all times—when he was at his weakest. The Kryptonian hadn't powered up from the sun's rays long enough to withstand the brute force of the new god. He was going to be in horrible shape for the Fourth of July parade.

"Why, this is the best work-out I've had in centuries." Kalibak grinned, balancing on his aero-disk as it whirled above Superman. "I have always underestimated the generosity of your people."

The Kryptonian groaned.

"Superman…Leage is… _where_ …coordinates… _now_ …"

A faint frown creased Superman forehead at the crackling sound but before he had the chance to acknowledge the whereabouts of his most-likely-dying commlink, Kalibak swiftly grasped the collar of his blue suit.

"I always wanted a new punching bag but this—this is too easy. And, dare I say, pathetic?"

"Strange," Superman breathed, "that sounds like something your dear old dad would say. What would he call you again? Weak, useless or…"

A soft _woosh_ was the only warning he received before he was slammed into an abandon warehouse. Mentioning Kalibak and his daddy-Darkseid-issues could do that to a person. The alien blinked slowly. Thunder clapped in the distance, shuddering the earth—his teammates' battling with the Elite imitating the remnants of a storm.

The new god approached him, Beta-Club twirling in one hand. "It was quite foolish for you to challenge the Elite on your own. You're lucky your less than average team came just in time to briefly delay your inevitable death."

He scoffed. "I have all the faith in my teammates."

"Oh? I doubt it. Because in only a matter of minutes, we'll bring your Just- _ass_ League— _ouff_!"

Batman collided with Kalibak, catapulting the beast several feet away into the surrounding debris with a loud _thud_. Cracking his knuckles, the detective turned his attention to the Kryptonian, glowering as his dark cape fluttered in the wind. "You _didn't_ alert us sooner."

"Hello to you, too." Wincing briefly, Superman grabbed the offered hand and lifted himself up.

"Unless you were planning on getting defeated by the Elite and becoming their eternal prisoner. Darkseid may have sent his goons as a mere distraction." He glanced at Superman's torn suit. "You look like shit."

"Always a joy to have you around. Current status?"

As Batman spoke to J'onn over the commlink, the alien's mind wandered. There was truth to his friend's comments, he knew, but it only drove his concern deeper. Because while he respected his teammates, he knew they wouldn't be able to withstand Darkseid's forces. With half of the team off-world, the Man of Steel knew he had to take this. He _should_ take it.

"…the team at rendez-vous point." Batman paused; white slits seemingly all too knowing. "You seem a little off."

He raised his eyebrows. "What? If anything, I'm a little distracted wondering how much of a private donation Wayne Enterprises will give for this mess. A million? Two million?"

"Try copious amounts of you're-on-your-own. But, more importantly _what_ are you doing—"

"C'mon," Superman repressed a sigh and gestured his arms once more, "you know it's easier this way. It's quicker if we just fly."

The silence that followed _would_ have been awkward if it weren't for the explosions in the distance.

"You know I hate that."

"I don't have time to argue!"

"Neither do I."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No," rang another voice, alarmingly near, "you _both_ are."

Kalibak stood behind them afar, directing his Beta-club in their direction, and the alien whistling crack of the weapon powering up filled their ears. The Kryptonian acted without thinking.

"No!"

* * *

"Rise and shine stupid-head. I mean sleepyhead."

Superman jerked forward with a grunt and quickly took in his surroundings. The familiar sight and smell of the Watchtower's medical bay was enough for him to relax. Stacked around the room steel cabinets and shelves gave purchase to medicine and equipment as a few cots lay in the middle, lights dangling overhead. However, there were several _more_ lights surrounding the Man of Steel in particular, which made it somewhat difficult fully seeing a smirking Hawkgirl slouched over a swivel chair.

"Easy there champ. These solar simulators help, but I doubt they're just as good as the real thing."

"How long have I been out?"

"About 24 hours. J'onn's on monitoring duty but doubling it up by helping out Wonder Woman and Flash as they battle some creepy insect-elephant things in some other dimension. John's still with the Lantern Corps." Grabbing a can of cherry soda that rested by her foot, she took a quick swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Want some?"

Superman shook his head and swung his legs over the bed. The past 24 hours was a bit of a blur. While he felt loads better than how he had before, the alien's body felt sore all over—as if he had raced the Flash around the world and lost. Again.

"And Batman?"

"What do _you_ think?"

Instead of answering, Superman merely seized his cape, draped behind the bed, and slipped into his boots. He thought a lot of things: the Fourth of July parade was tomorrow, and he was nowhere near figuring out if Darkseid had anything planned. Figuring out Batman's whereabouts and the faint accusation in Hawkgirl's voice would have to wait.

"Look," said Shayera, lifting off her mask to inspect the Kryptonian, "I may not be Batman's biggest fan, or friend, hell, even acquaintance"—

" _Shayera_."

"—but he's got a point."

"You two had a heart to heart while I was knocked out?"

"With the World's Greatest Loner? Hardly. Just—he had said something to J'onn and it just kind've clicked but…"

Superman paused, turning around as he felt Shayera's hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to save the day by yourself." She lifted a hand before he protested. "Listen, I'm the last person to give advice, but we've noticed how hard you've been pushing yourself lately and you should know we're a team for a reason. You can trust us, Superman."

If one where to look up the definition of surprised at that moment, the Kryptonian's face would be right next to the definition. The Thanagarian wasn't the type to just offer her thoughts about a person unless she hated said person. Superman raised his eyebrows. "I trust all of you."

Shuffling his hair, she gave a grin. "I know you do, Boy Scout, but just think about it."

And he did. While he should have spent the next hours in the Watchtower helping J'onn investigate Darkseid, Hawkgirl's words rang in his mind. Maybe she had a point—he _was_ pushing himself a lot more lately but didn't they all? Especially the Caped Crusader himself. There was weight to carry and sometimes that weight doubled. Clark looked out his apartment window as he polished his boots. Decorated in ribbons and banners, the streets lit of red, white, and blue as the smell of charred hot dogs and burgers filled the air. He was the last of his kind, but the last thing he would do was to simply sit back and lose another.

The TV buzzed in the background. "In just a few minutes, we'll be seeing the Man in Blue himself at the annual Fourth of July parade. A true American icon. Take a seat, folks, 'cause it's going to be one heck of a show!"

* * *

"Watch out!"

An Apokolip mutant spun in the air as Superman blast it away from Hawkgirl protecting a group of terrified tourists.

She scowled. "I had it!"

Dozens of the Apokolip mutants filled the streets, tearing down decorations and attacking civilians. The parade went on for about a minute before the chaos ensued. _One heck of a show_ was putting it lightly.

"I'm Daisy Wright with Channel Five News," A blonde anchorwoman in a pantsuit gestured behind her, "and it looks like the annual parade has turned into an annual parade of _utter_ destruction and _complete_ peril. Stay tuned for more updates!"

"Out of the way!" Hawkgirl swept down, flinging her mace against three bare-fanged Apokolip mutants as J'onn transitioned into a serpent and captured a few others.

Hammer punching a mutant in the face— _was_ that its face?—the Man of Steel spun around and iced breathed the oncoming few. "They just keep coming!"

"I suspect a boom tube." Superman nearly ran into the detective as he flipped over a float, throwing explosive batarangs into the air. A faint cut sliced the corner of his mouth and a light bruise covered his chin. _Kalibak._ Batman glared. "Watch it."

"What's your problem?"

"You should be asking yourself the same thing."

" _Me?"_

"Guys! Focus!" The Thanagarian glowered at the pair before ducking the charge of two mutants. She flipped over one, quickly grabbing the other and propelling it into the air.

"Yes, _you._ " Batman flickered his commlink while pulling out a device from his utility belt. "My computer detected the gravitational force on my way over here. If we can find the source, I can deactivate it." He tilted his head towards Superman. "Unless you're planning on running a one-man-operation today."

"You can't be serious."

He clenched his fists. It was one thing hearing it from Hawkgirl but from the guy who probably believes there _is_ an "I" in the word team? Helicopters soared in the sky as civilians ran amok in the crowded sheets. It was a smear of red, white, and blue.

"I can sense the disturbance," said J'onn flying above. "It is two blocks south next to the premises of a McDonalds."

Batman was already off, darting through the streets as his dark cape billowed behind him. And, while he was faster than average, Superman quickly caught up to him with his super-speed. Slipping his arms under his and lifting the Caped Crusader into the air, he easily earned a death glare along with a courtesy swear.

Batman snorted. "You really can't help yourself."

"I'm _faster_."

"Whatever helps you and your incessant need to save the day sleep at night."

With more force than necessary, Superman dumped him by the McDonalds and stood guard, heat blasting and freezing the Apokolip aliens running towards them. "If—and a big if _—_ I had an _incessant need to save the day_ , how is that any different from your incessant control issues?" He clasped his hands together and slammed them into the pavement, hurling the nearby aliens into the cracked ground. "Riddle me _that_ , Batman."

"I don't pretend to be something I'm not, Kal'El. I admit my weaknesses."

"What are you trying to say? That I don't trust any of you? I trust you all with my life!"

"Then prove it."

"What?" Frowning, the Kryptonian turned around to see Batman directing a gem-like device at him as several more aliens surrounded the duo.

" _Duck_."

He didn't think—just acted. The device flew from Batman's hand, ricocheting off a transparent smudge near the golden arch of the McDonalds' sign. With a low hiss, the boom tube appeared for a split second before collapsing into itself and vaporizing the aliens.

Hours passed as the cleanup crew fixed the streets while firefighters took note of the damage. The League helped as much as they could with cleaning up the rubble and answering the government officials' questions— _who's paying for this shit?_ It was no surprise Batman had already slipped away, and it was no surprise finding him crouched atop a building as the sun set.

"You know, you're not always right."

Batman barely flinched at the Man of Steel's voice nor did he react to him sitting near on the edge of the building, legs dangling.

"Sometimes," Superman said, "I feel like I _should_ do it all myself. That it would just be easier not having to put others in harm's way. It's selfish, I know, but…"

His words drifted in a summer breeze as the darkness grew. Faint explosions of fireworks thundering afar filled the brief silence.

Batman cleared his throat. "It's difficult being vulnerable. I should know. But, you're not entirely invincible, Kal. We both know that."

"I know it."

"You can't save everyone. I've learned that. You're going to have to accept it."

More fireworks filled the night sky, flashes of colors expanding in the dark. The shadows flickered across the heroes' faces, creating strange shapes. He needed to accept his weaknesses and offer his teammates trust. He could do it. He _would_ do it. Superman glanced at the spectators below him looking up at the show in the sky.

"So…how much do you think Wayne Enterprise will pay for this _natural disaster_? One million or two million or"—

"I try not to think about it."

He softly chuckled, and the duo watched the fireworks for a few moments more.


End file.
